It’s official: I’m a pussy.
Yes, I said it, I’m a pussy. Not a pansy, not a chicken, a pussy.
Why, you may ask, am I a pussy? After all, that’s a serious accusation to make of someone. The implications of cowardice and absolute inability to make use of one’s spine are quite damning.
Tonight I am a pussy because I passed on answering a phone call and tossed the duties of returning it to Southern Honey. You see, there are lots of things that I do for him on a regular basis because I love him and that’s what married people do. However, there are some things that I try to avoid having to do, and this phone call was one of them.
I love my mother-in-law dearly. She’s a wonderful, resourceful woman with a big heart. However, when it comes to planning big events, she drives me up the wall. She continually has ideas that she wants you to think about, no matter how well or poorly they fit into your plans. Sometimes she takes off with them without even asking if you like them. It happened with the wedding a lot.
I made my frustration with this clear to Southern Honey at the time, and I kind of decided (in my head, not out loud) that I wasn’t going to put up with it later when I could avoid it. I was doing very, very well until just a little bit ago when she called. I let it go to voicemail because I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone tonight; I’ve been absorbed in my story and in getting the house ready for Thursday all weekend, so I wanted to relax while Southern Honey is at work.
I listened to the voicemail just in case something bad had happened. She just wanted to discuss my menu for Thursday, although she’s not going to be here.
I know that she just wants to feel involved in the holiday precisely because she can’t be with us all, but I can’t go there. I just can’t. I’ve already made all the plans, bought all the ingredients (well, except for the ham), and readied most of the house. I don’t have the mental or emotional energy to hash it out with her and then fend off her ideas. I’m already freaking out a little bit over how much we’ve spent and everything I have to do this week still. I can’t deal with her too.
So, long story short, I’m a pussy because I foisted my mother-in-law off on her son so as to avoid more stress about Thanksgiving. That’s a legitimate reason, right?