Good news is, the test came out negative. Bad news is, if my period doesn't hit by the second, I'm taking another one anyway.
In other news, I don't really want to be here.
See, my mother-in-law had a stroke of bad luck financially, so my husband is taking over her lease on her rental house, and her, his brother and sister, are all now living with us.
The problem is, they've been living here for a year already. And my mother-in-law is...well...kind of a hoarder. Not the extreme kind you see on tv, but still. The house is a mess. We had to clean out my brother-in-law's bedroom, which was buried ankle-deep in used tissues, empty soda cans, and candy wrappers. But at least we could throw that stuff away. We won't be allowed to throw away the old magazines on the landing, or get rid of my sister-in-law's four huge bags of stuffed animals that probably haven't seen the light of day since they moved here. Or the massive amounts of clothing that results in my MIL not having to do laundry for a full month. But which then takes days to finish.
I've been trying to clean it up some, since in a few days it'll technically be *my* house, not hers. But I can't do anything. I can keep our room clean, sort of. A whole house of stuff was crammed in here because there literally wasn't room anywhere else. I've reorganized the bathroom, but had her come in and undo some of the work I'd done. I've also managed to extend my pitiful influence into the hall and get one measly bookshelf organized.
I've even taken it upon myself to do the dishes, because they were piled in the sink as high as the faucet, and I couldn't stand it anymore. But there's bags of trash everywhere, no one puts dirty dishes in the sink, no one tosses their trash when they're done with it, leftover food is left to rot on the stove unless I put it up, and the worst part is, I can't even reorganize and clear the counters. The cabinets are stuffed full. My SIL's craft stuff is scattered everywhere, and takes up more space than all of my clothing. I can't even sit on the couch because it's covered with stuff.
The best part? The bedroom I'm sharing with my new husband has a door that doesn't close right. It just swings open unless you lock it. Oh, but it gets better. The bathroom here, the full bathroom, the only one with a shower, opens into our room - but also the one shared by my MIL and SIL. There is so little privacy here, it's a disaster, I can't seem to fix anything, and I just want to go back to the other house.
But there's more.
Despite the fact that it will be my house in a few short days, I'll never be able to enforce that. No matter what my well-meaning but totally oblivious husband says. She's lived here longer, this is all *her* stuff, since a huge chunk of mine is boxed away in the garage, and if I don't do things her way, all she has to do is go and change it back.
I feel like I'm living with my own mother again, except, this time, I know I can't get away with just tossing stuff I know is junk. So I'm strapped every way I turn.
No, I'm NOT happy just tossing dirty rags on the floor. No, I'm NOT happy about the idea of my MIL taking over our bathroom once a month to do a month's worth of laundry when I've offered to do a load every day. No, I'm NOT happy with the idea of living in this junkyard for a few months, and certainly not longer if I *do* happen to be pregnant, despite the negative test. No, I'm *not* happy about living with a pile of my clothing next to my desk because I can't use the closet in my own bedroom, which is full of stuff that is *not mine or my husband's.* No, I'm not happy with the idea of my only escape being a bedroom that doesn't have a proper door. I'm not happy living like this.
I've told everyone that I'm doing okay, that I'll survive. I'm sure I will. The question is, how miserable am I going to be before they finally move out?
In other news, I don't really want to be here.
See, my mother-in-law had a stroke of bad luck financially, so my husband is taking over her lease on her rental house, and her, his brother and sister, are all now living with us.
The problem is, they've been living here for a year already. And my mother-in-law is...well...kind of a hoarder. Not the extreme kind you see on tv, but still. The house is a mess. We had to clean out my brother-in-law's bedroom, which was buried ankle-deep in used tissues, empty soda cans, and candy wrappers. But at least we could throw that stuff away. We won't be allowed to throw away the old magazines on the landing, or get rid of my sister-in-law's four huge bags of stuffed animals that probably haven't seen the light of day since they moved here. Or the massive amounts of clothing that results in my MIL not having to do laundry for a full month. But which then takes days to finish.
I've been trying to clean it up some, since in a few days it'll technically be *my* house, not hers. But I can't do anything. I can keep our room clean, sort of. A whole house of stuff was crammed in here because there literally wasn't room anywhere else. I've reorganized the bathroom, but had her come in and undo some of the work I'd done. I've also managed to extend my pitiful influence into the hall and get one measly bookshelf organized.
I've even taken it upon myself to do the dishes, because they were piled in the sink as high as the faucet, and I couldn't stand it anymore. But there's bags of trash everywhere, no one puts dirty dishes in the sink, no one tosses their trash when they're done with it, leftover food is left to rot on the stove unless I put it up, and the worst part is, I can't even reorganize and clear the counters. The cabinets are stuffed full. My SIL's craft stuff is scattered everywhere, and takes up more space than all of my clothing. I can't even sit on the couch because it's covered with stuff.
The best part? The bedroom I'm sharing with my new husband has a door that doesn't close right. It just swings open unless you lock it. Oh, but it gets better. The bathroom here, the full bathroom, the only one with a shower, opens into our room - but also the one shared by my MIL and SIL. There is so little privacy here, it's a disaster, I can't seem to fix anything, and I just want to go back to the other house.
But there's more.
Despite the fact that it will be my house in a few short days, I'll never be able to enforce that. No matter what my well-meaning but totally oblivious husband says. She's lived here longer, this is all *her* stuff, since a huge chunk of mine is boxed away in the garage, and if I don't do things her way, all she has to do is go and change it back.
I feel like I'm living with my own mother again, except, this time, I know I can't get away with just tossing stuff I know is junk. So I'm strapped every way I turn.
No, I'm NOT happy just tossing dirty rags on the floor. No, I'm NOT happy about the idea of my MIL taking over our bathroom once a month to do a month's worth of laundry when I've offered to do a load every day. No, I'm NOT happy with the idea of living in this junkyard for a few months, and certainly not longer if I *do* happen to be pregnant, despite the negative test. No, I'm *not* happy about living with a pile of my clothing next to my desk because I can't use the closet in my own bedroom, which is full of stuff that is *not mine or my husband's.* No, I'm not happy with the idea of my only escape being a bedroom that doesn't have a proper door. I'm not happy living like this.
I've told everyone that I'm doing okay, that I'll survive. I'm sure I will. The question is, how miserable am I going to be before they finally move out?
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