This morning, at the bleary eye-time of 4:30 am, I heard something. I always hear something. If there is something to be heard, I will hear it. I hate having "bat ears", as my husband has deemed them. (Yet, in that same token, I have trouble hearing if there is a lot of back ground noise...huh?)
Anyway, 4:30 and something is swish, scrape, scrubbing above my head.
My brother-in-law (oldest brother of Beloved) is here for a visit. In the past, I have dreaded a visit from this bad boy. He's is just like his father, so you can imagine having TWO of them in the house is just a whole barrel of fun. Groan! Yet, I have to admit, that the last two visits have really been pretty nice. Not a lot of yelling and no arguing in my vicinity. Nice!
The only flaw with this years visit is that he brought his friend, athletes foot.
FIL loathes athletes foot and I can't blame him. So when he complained about having to share a shower with Bad Boy, I told him to clean his shower (duh) and spray the floor down with bleach after Bad Boy uses it.
The interesting thing is,is that Bad Boy has been here for TWO WEEKS and I know FIL has showered during that time (every Thursday and Sunday whether he needs it or not). So why in the name of Terbinafine, did the man decide to clean his shower at 4:30?
I shouldn't be surprised.
This is the same man who "putts" from the living room to the hallway several times per day, beginning at 6:00am and ending around 10:00 - sometimes 11:00pm.
I'm surprised he has any carpet left up there.
FIL is the very same man who will come down if Beloved hasn't left the house on time for work. Disregarding the fact that Beloved is on vacation and doesn't need to get up at 5:15.
FIL will get teary eyed over the death of a rhododendron and yet treat his family like lepers.
And then there was the time that he left town without telling me that the hot-wire wasn't working. I spent the next two days putting a calf back in the pasture.
FIL is the man who will go play golf, go shoot archery, go have coffee with the boys, but refuses to take his trash out.
Do you understand what I'm living with here?
At 4:30 I stood in the laundry room, staring at the ceiling, listening to a scrub brush go round and round. I considered all sorts of snappy one liners...but realized that FIL really doesn't care how I feel.
And that, perhaps more than anything else, steams me.
There isn't anything I can do about it. It's just part of the fun I have with FIL on a daily basis.