African Skylight

The more I think about it, the more it seems that a roof is a bit of a luxury. Do we really need a roof? Sure it’s winter, but it’s not too terribly cold. And it rarely rains this time of year. Seriously, almost never. So who needs a roof? After all, there’s nothing quite like the African sky.

Okay, so it needs a bit more than a roof...
I’m talking about our cottage, of course. The cottage that is currently under construction behind my in-laws’ house. Am I crazy for moving into a cottage that is only fifty steps from my mother-in-law’s door? Well, yes. Clearly, we have already established this to be true based solely on the fact that I agreed to live under the same roof with her until the damn thing is finished! In my defense, it was supposed to be completed by June 1st. However, here we are, over a week past the deadline, and as I mentioned – still without a roof.

I don’t want to turn this into more whining about how miserable it is to live with my in-laws. We’ve been there and done that (oh, but the stories I could tell!). That being said, I’m still desperate to get out of this house, and that roofless cottage stands in the backyard like a mirage in the desert. It might be just fifty steps away, but I am counting on those fifty steps to give me back my sanity. I watch the painfully slow progress and dream of a time and place where I can once again be myself. I can wash clothes on my schedule. I can eat ice cream for lunch without judgment. I can shower without using the squeegee afterward. I can talk about my day over dinner with my husband. I can let Moose up on the couch.

It’s not that life with the in-laws is unbearable; it’s just not my life. I find myself trying so hard to follow the rules and meet the expectations that in the process, I’m fading into this person that I don’t really recognize. A girl terrified of breaking a glass or spilling something on the carpet, who is immobilized by the fear of being scolded for mixing her darks with lights. A girl who hides her dirty clothes rather than be the cause of yet another load of laundry, who’s never sure which meals qualify for use of the dishwasher and which ones demand immediate washing up. A girl constantly hiding upstairs while her in-laws wonder what the hell it is she does up there.

Roger will say I’m exaggerating and perhaps he’s right. I’ve certainly never been directly shouted at for improperly starting the washing machine. To be honest, no one in this house has shouted at me for anything, and if they did, I am confident that Roger would shout right back (have I mentioned how much I adore him?). So I’m not really afraid of being yelled at, but I’m terrified of doing the wrong thing and upsetting my mother-in-law…and she can get really upset. She openly admits that she’s anal retentive, and yet this does nothing to ease the pain of knowing that I have pissed her off, yet again.

Roger says I must ignore it. So what if a broken glass is enough to send her into a tirade about the proper way to wash dishes? That’s her problem. It’s just a glass and it was an accident. I know he’s right, and yet I’m crushed that something I did could irritate her so much. I’m in tears over the whole thing – pathetic, I know. It’s a part of my personality that I absolutely abhor. I’m far too sensitive, and I care entirely too much what other people think. It’s infuriating to think that my emotions can be so dependent on the actions of another person, especially when that person tends to be as explosive as the most recent season of 24.

Roger tells me not to care so much, but that’s easier said than done. How do you change an elemental part of your personality? I’m hoping basic evolution will save me. My current living situation will force my survival instincts to kick in, and with each day I will care a little bit less. Who knows? Perhaps a psychotic mother-in-law is exactly what I need to cure my over-sensitivity. I will be forced to get tough if I plan to survive in this jungle of insanity.

We're all just trying to survive though. This isn’t an ideal situation for any of us. As much as my mother-in-law’s eccentricities are stressing me out, well, my quirks are driving her crazy too. So, it’s definitely not just me. All parties involved are more than a little anxious for the cottage to be complete.

I walk down to the cottage and once again question the necessity of a roof. We’ll want one eventually, sure, but perhaps we could go ahead and move in… I always wanted a skylight.