Walk-in closet

I've just remembered what I did 6 years ago. And I'm not proud. I still feel guilty, but then guilt is guilt when you've purposely done something to harm someone else. As it was, I swear I never did it on purpose. I just wanted a walk-in closet. Too many clothes, too many shoes. My wardrobes were splitting at their seams. There was only one thing for it, to create a room which would actually house all of my apparel. And the word, or bi-word walk-in closet sounded tres tres chic. My nice Mister offered to help too. Ahh it was at the beginning of the relationship, he was so quick to please. He still is, but had I to mention a walk-in something again he'd walk out. Of that I'm certain. And I don't blame him one bit. So my walk-in closet was looking all so nice and pretty, I had red curtains made especially for the occasion. The trouble was that I wanted to hang a rod high up, almost next to the ceiling. So Mister obliged, and it was ready, just one more bolt for completion. I decided I was going to get a Diet Coke. That was when I heard a thud so loud I thought my floor had finally caved in. It hadn't, but my Mister was nowhere to be seen. Where the fuck was he? I mean he's a big man, why couldn't I see him? Worse, how the hell couldn't I hear him? Then I saw him lying down in the dust, and he wasn't moving. I just shook him, and madonna tal-hniena his shoulder was just swinging this way and that. It was obvious, he was also in pain. He just said, call someone, my shoulder, it hurts. Of course it hurt, it was dislocated. Me being me, I thought I'd just had a great idea so I said... oh honey why don't you go have a shower before, I mean you're full of dust'. His answer went *********************! Ok got it, no shower he was going to have to go to hospital as dusty as he was. I didn't yet know his brother-in-law was demented, so I figured, him being a nurse, I'd call him. He came in 5 minutes flat, together with his then wife, also a nurse. And they asked me for a scarf. Ok I could do that. So I took out a silk scarf and produced it. They took one look at it and said... don't you have anything which isn't silk? No I hadn't. What decent girl buys scarves if they're not silk? I'd given them my Versace scarf for God's sake. So they just wrapped up his arm and whisked him away to hospital. Two hours later they were back, with Mister and shoulder back in place. Apparently once in hospital, Mister thought he had become a celebrity. Everybody was looking at him. He also loved the fact that his brother had to push him uphill while in a wheelchair, he'd just got his own back on his brother by making him sweat. And it was an injured man thinking this.... He was so happy, until I realised that it was my Versace scarf which was getting the attention...Then began two weeks of Mister lapping up the attention. Since his shoulder was sore he couldn't do much. Also since he'd had a fall he'd injured his leg badly so he couldn't walk unaided. He was the perfect patient, meaning he was perfect at being injured. He couldn't even shower on his own, and my guess is that this was what he loved best of all. We laugh about it now, but there are still tell-tale signs on his leg and arm. My poor Mister, come to me qalbi... try that on any man, you'll be a big success.

The in-laws

Now I know, this is a touchy subject enough. Who in the hell can boast about getting on perfectly well with their in-laws? Probably plenty of people. Liars, all of them. Because with 'my' men have come plenty of in-laws, and they've all sucked. Out of all the dozens of mother in laws, I've never found the right one. Perhaps there just isn't a right one after all. I've missed out on father in laws simply because when you like dating older men, then their father has passed on. One less thing to worry about. And no I'm not being a bitch, I haven't killed any father in law, they've just been dead. Dead is ok, dead is good sometimes. It's definitely good if it relieves you of what could have been yet another lose-lose situation. So I'm just being realistic that's all. So let's talk about in-laws. Mine have ranged from stupid to greedy, to pathetic, to weird, to vile, to throwing-up material. Not one decent in-law. I remember one in-law who was fascinated by my derriere, at the time a thousand times smaller, and who would try to accidentally-on-purpose stroke it. And he was ugly, and a millionaire. Unfortunately, not like his brother whom I was dating. The mother in law was downright stupid, but morbidly interested in the Maltese Lira, it's fluctuations and all. Her son, whom I dated was actually a good for nothing son of a bitch, but try telling a 15 year old who is in love for the first time that. I finally came to my senses at 20 and decided it was time to try a good boy out. He was a good boy, with an amazing grandmother whom I loved to bits. Unfortunately the package came with the mother in law who always left her wallet at home. I think she must have suffered from some kind of amnesia or something of the sort. She also had a boyfriend my age, and (I swear this is true, cross my heart), boyfriend and I would be subjected to listening them coupling in the next room. Probably because she didn't need a wallet for that since she had her pouch. Yes her pouch, because she whined like a kangaroo in labour. More in-laws. This time, it was different, because I didn't want boys anymore. I wanted men! So I went for the fifty-somethings. And life was good, terribly good because I thought I wouldn't have to deal with in-laws then, since most would have been dead, and seeing that the fifty-somethings would all have a wife, then I would have to be kept in secret. A splendid way of doing away with the in-laws completely. Not so. Because frigging Malta is rife with gossip and I didn't remain a secret for long. So then the in-laws, whom I had never even met, started calling the Kappillan of my parish to tell my mum that her daughter was a home-wrecker. The real truth was that the same in-laws were probably also bored shit of their marriage, but sibling rivalry was settling in. And I was no home-wrecker. I never wrecked my home. If the married fifty-somethings decided to wreck their own, then that was their problem. But it also threw me into relationships with daughters-in-laws and sons-in-laws who were older than me. That was tricky. Terribly tricky. And once it got too tricky, I'd suddenly move on, again not because I was a bitch, but because it was a way out of the in-law thing. I was even an in-law nanna for God's sake, if that is something that exists anymore. Yet more in-laws. I even had a priest as an in-law. A totally mad one too, who would go off with his philosophical sermons as if he were the anti-Christ. A Catholic priest whose views about everything made me pale. Including his views about sex, free, as in totally very free twisted kinds of sex. Now I do not think of myself as a missionary-style-loving-sex kind of girl but wow this was more than my insides could take. It didn't help that he was always very intrigued with my toes especially when he was so even more infatuated about mutilation. I swear it's true, I'm not making it up, cross my heart. Yet more in-laws. A mother-in-law who is far from a pretty sight, seeing she like to go out and about, yes even outside, in her nightdress with her breasts dangling dangerously down to her waist. I call them breasts for want of a better world, because they actually look more like wasted watermelons which she likes to hold and caress. She also likes to go hysterical whenever it suits her, likes banging her head against a particular kitchen cupboard because she thinks I will care. I don't. And she comes back from hysterical state very fast. Her husband isn't much better. He doesn't hear when it suits him. His teeth have long been gone and buried except for one, he wears tent shaped panties with his balls hanging out. I've always thought that the reason he doesn't wear normal panties or boxers is because he farts with every step he makes and I guess he has to have an outlet for all his gas or he'd blow himself up. Not a bad idea. But oh can he multi task! He can laugh, cough, sneeze, pee and fart at the same time. He also thinks that air conditioning will kill him, he will sleep in a tiny stuffy room in this heat without even opening a window and thinks that had he to switch on a fan he'd get very sick and get taken into Mater Dei's Intensive Care Unit. Not such a bad idea either. He thinks he knows all about the world, and he's afraid of boarding the Gozo Ferry. All he knows about is San Lawrenz, a topic which doesn't interest me in the least. I know I horrified him because I didn't know and still don't know what killed the saint. But there's more. A brother in-law who is a nurse, and who has instilled in me the fear of nurses. Because if all nurses are remotely similar, then no thank you, I will put the dressing on myself, I'll inject myself with whatever. And it gets worse. A stupid, mentally challenged, hysterical, psychotic, sister-in-law with all personality disorders rolled into one. Probably with a fat bank account too. Greedy bitch. She also has a mole on her upper lip, the kind of mole which hairs stick out from, and the first time I saw her I got obsessed with this damn mole, I couldn't take my eyes off it. Not because it as pretty but because I would have loved to rip it out sans anaesthetic. Sigh. I have finally learnt to keep away from all this in-law shit. The way I see it, life's short enough. I have better things to do than visit the kunjati. It's not as if I'm gaining anything from it, definitely not in any kind of monetary gain. But wait, they sent me 5Euro for my birthday... and that just about says it all.