I've just bought a new toothbrush. Yesterday I discovered my old one with a piss-filled incontinence towel draped over it, belonging to my tone-deaf, three-toothed, obsessive-complusive, mad-as-a-box-of-frogs Mother-In-Law...
Yes, I'm currently living with my dreaded In-laws in a small terraced house, alongside my wife and two young daughters. Although 'living' is possibly stretching it a bit, unless you add the word 'Hell'. This was never part of The Plan. It was obviously a kind offer (one we're all regretting )and I am grateful for somewhere to live but I can't wait to escape this House of the Nearly Dead, it's stinky grey bleach rags and it's constant Antiques programme re-runs.
As each day passes I feel like I'm slowly cracking up. It's like living with the cast of Last of the Summer Wine.
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Found another of those Granny nappies next to our bed. My eldest daughter Daisy found one on top of her Miley Cyrus book. My M.I.L. obviously thinks they are decorative objects. I wouldn't have been surprised had I found them strewn up around the living room on Halloween . They'd have been scarier than the pumpkins or plastic skulls.
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