Letting go...again.

Current Notes: I wish I knew who painted this, it sums up so much of my life right now...

And, with Saturday, I can breathe a sigh of relief. Because, as much fun as Dearest Son’s birthday week was, I’m wiped out and a bit glad it’s over for this year ! He loved all his gifts and the cupcakes he picked out were all delicious. He did pretty well with the multitude of candles, too ! Beanie Baby Rarity has a place of honor on his desk, the pretty bow from the bag she was wrapped in around her neck. While we couldn’t spend a lot this year, we made sure all week was fun. He’s had popcorn every day since Monday, between the bank and Dollar Tree – and I’m regaining my skills with the stovetop version. We rented Despicable Me 2, a movie he’s wanted to see, and finished the leftovers from his favorite home-cooked dinner for lunch today.

Evidently, the smell of popcorn has driven MIL nuts, even though I only made it once, because she and FIL used the last of it last night –  despite the fact that she’s under doctor’s orders to avoid the stuff. FIL then requested a ride to the grocery today to replace it… but somehow managed not to. He did, however, replace the loaf of bread that vanished somewhere between when I bought it Thursday and today – but after FIL’s usual four slices of burned toast breakfast, they’re keeping the rest in their hidey-hole. This is after I made them dinner for Dearest Son’s birthday. Yes, whatever we buy belongs to everyone, what they purchase is theirs alone. Some things never change, as it was the same way last time we lived here. (sigh) Beloved insists I buy groceries ‘for everybody’, but we can’t really afford to, since their preferred dinner is steak and fried potatoes, every late afternoon. We’re talking seven or eight pounds of potatoes a week, not to mention the five pounds of coffee and three 12-packs of Diet Pepsi. It’s amazing, because despite it all, neither of them are near as fat as I am, and MIL gets far less exercise.

MIL even shoved the key to their prescription lock-box into her sock today, muttering that she’d better keep it because FIL knew where the hiding spot was. I offered to move it, but she believes her sock is safer. I’m about to wash my hands of both of ‘em.