The visit.

The visit.

He was stressed in anticipation of her arriving.

The MIL was coming to stay with us for a week. 

I was optimistic. 

It would be fine. 

It was only one week.


Naive.  So naive.


I am not sure what I thought she would do while we were at work.

I am not sure I even gave it much thought.

If I had an inkling of what she would do,

I would have been stressed about her visit too.


She re-arranged my cupboards.

Yep, she swapped up the plates and the glasses. 

She didn’t like it. 


She went into our bedroom to collect laundry. 

The bedroom with the closed door.

There she found some delicates I had on the bed. 

She explained how she hand scrubbed those for me.

When she gestured to the clothesline, I took off outside to collect my things.


She went through our photo albums.

No, there is nothing wrong with looking at those albums,

But, she went through them.

She removed photos,

She cut up photos...she would cut the person right out of the photo!

Try looks ridiculous. 

She liked it.  

She added magazine photos.


She decided I looked like Valerie Bertinelli.

She was adamant. 

She cut out photos of her from magazines,

And put them in my albums. 


Months after this visit, I was browsing through one of those albums,

I stopped cold. 

Where the heck was I in this picture?

Why am I wearing so much makeup?

I had a gold dress?


Where did this come from?

That’s how I discovered my MIL’s holiday activites. 


She went through our mail.

She had a list of questions upon our return from work.

It was lovely supper conversation. 


Finally, the week came to an end.

We had developed a twitch.

We watched the plane take off. 

We drove home in silence. 


We were thankful for the geographical size of our country. 


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