Today is the dreaded arrival of the Out-Laws. God help me.
So far we have no plans of what the hell to do with them other than take them out to dinner. And this is a serious issue, mostly because my FIL will expect a gourmet meal of filet mignon but will refuse to wear anything better than jeans, a wife-beater, and a plaid snap-button shirt. Unbuttoned. Klassy.
So it will probably be off to some place like Outback or Lone Star. The last time we took him to Outback, we waited about 45 minutes and then they only had a booth. Slight problem, because he is too fat to fit in a booth. Yes, I'm serious. So the waitress pulled a chair up into the aisle and he sat there, but not without bitching constantly about how Outback discriminated against him by making the booths too small. Um, could you possibly bring me a gun, kind waitress? Thanks.
Then there's the matter of my brother-in-law Kenny. He has apparently decided that he will have zero participation in this weekend's events. So not only do I have to deal with my FIL's usual level of assholishness, then I have to listen to him bitch about Kenny.
Can you tell I already have an optimistic outlook on how the weekend is going to go?
On the good side, Cat Door came over for dinner last night so we got to hang out...and right now he and his brother are putting our new glass block window in our bathroom. It's so purty I can barely stand it. Not to mention he has been cracking me up all morning, so it's been a nice relief from the pre-IL-tension that has enveloped our house this week.
Apple cake is in the oven, bourbon is downstairs just in case. Wish me luck.