Fear is here to stay, love is here for a visit. – Elvis Costello
Oh my GAWD I am going to freak the fuck out! Clearly, my mother in law has not read and agreed to my Zero Tolerance for Bullshit of Any Kind policy. Hormonal as it is, (yes, I am 57 years old and I still menstruate. There, I said it) I was in no freaking mood for this voicemail:
Hello, it’s your ((passive aggressive, narcissist)) mother in law. We need to get shopping for the flowers for our anniversary party (DON’T GET ME STARTED-HER ANNIVERSARY WAS IN DECEMBER) I’m going to have to find someone else to do the arrangements, I suppose. Love you. (Seriously???? REALLY????) Serenity now.
My husband tried to give them an anniversary party back in December, but it snowed and the restaurant closed-leaving him with 30 pounds of cake and a shit load of calls to make. Now, oh I fear I may spontaneously combust-the unmitigated gall! Air bitch slap. Three months ago, she asked that I do the floral arrangements for her tables (yes, she rented out a fire hall-for all 7 of her friends.) I promptly agreed. She took me to her armoire, which was full of depression glass, porcelain vases and country crocks. I had everything I needed, and knew I would still have flowers in my garden come October.
“These are perfect, and I’ll have flowers. No need to go shopping,” I smiled.
But NO!!! Why God? Haven’t I suffered enough? What fresh hell awaits?
It’s a bluegrass shindig. I was a florist, and I know that her stock of containers were perfect for a bluegrass event. I told her what I thought I would do. I picked both of my wedding gowns within five minutes of opening the shop door. I am not long on patience, it’s one of my imperfections, among many-needless to say, I hoped we could agree, and quickly.
“Oh, maybe we should do silk flowers, and I think we should buy blue, uniform vases…now wait, we can go to the dollar store and……yada, yada, yada, well, we’ll get right on this.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
I tell her in September, we’ll go whenever you want. The date came and she couldn’t go. That was two, count em, two days ago. She has done this stupid shit for 27 years, and I won’t go through one more hair pulling event. That’s my hair that would be pulled out by the end of this train wreck.
I scream at my husband, let me at her, what the?, who does she think she’s screwing with……..scream, cry, belch. No, he says, just call her.
Frustrated to the point of rage, I ring her up. Straight to voicemail.
“Hey Dolly, why don’t you just go ahead and find someone else. Love you!” 🙂