Do you remember when I said there was nothing like having your father-in-law burst into your house uninvited at 7am?
It seems I spoke too soon.
Far too soon.
This morning, he came in at 7am, uninvited, as is his habit of late. I was breathless and bra-less, trying to get the kids and husband out of their various states of undress and into their appropriate roles in society, be it salaryman-at-large or student of primary education. Oh, and then there’s that other place where the little ones go…haven’t quite figured that one out yet, but I digress.
Verily, verily I say unto you it is a fool who enters the house of his son at such an hour. HRH was none too happy about having his morning routine interrupted. (Interrupting everyone else’s routine, apparently, is not much of a problem.)
I thought we’d gotten rid of the invader at 7:30. His stories come on then and he wanted to be home in time to see whodunnit or who done who or something like that.
In spite of the interruption, HRH left for work on time, Brother went to school, meanwhile I fielded several phone calls from MIL. Jiji wants to come over to work on the closet some more, she says. He can’t, says I, because I will not be home until lunchtime.
I took Sister to school, then had a nice hour or so having coffee with a friend, went to the grocery store, picked up Sister (yes, school is that short!), and came home to find
The Door Unlocked
And two pairs of familiar shoes in the entrance way. Geriatric shoes, the kind with fake laces and a zip up the side.
Me Too and I tiptoe into the house, hearts racing, unsure of what we will find, but pretty sure it will piss me off.
They’d gone through the whole house. There were zoukin, nasty rags, on the bathroom floor, nasty rag ring around the bathroom sink. For some reason I cannot begin to fathom, they’d opened up the kitchen drain and taken the big plug thing out so there was a huge, gaping pipe of crud exposed for the world to see.
Then there was the bedroom, where The Closet is located. Good god, they’d taken everything out of it. Futons and blankets and drawers and boxes, everything. Jiji was inside with a screwdriver, yelling at Baba, who was holding a floodlight.
It would have been funny if it wasn’t my house. And if they hadn’t emerged shortly afterwards saying they were hungry.
I’m ashamed to admit it, but I fed them. Egg sandwiches, salad we were supposed to have for supper, cookies I’d made for the children’s snack, and seedless white grapes that are hard to come by here.
At the end of it, I had a closet door that opens and closes, so I guess that’s good. I also had a good chance to clean out the closet.
Jiji started to vacuum the window screens (no, I’m not joking,) then announces our vacuum filter is crap. He took the vacuum cleaner apart and said he would bring it back later.
No doubt at 6am tomorrow.
And so the cycle continues….