The Curse of the Mother-in-Law

    Those of you who have read me from the beginning might remember I have mentioned my mother-in-law. She and I passed a stainless steel cream pitcher back and forth for years before she passed away. I put it in the box with her ashes when we said goodbye.


    My Hubs was convinced that I would wake up one morning and find that pitcher on my nightstand covered with dirt. He thought his mom would continue to play the little game with me. Well, he was wrong. It's been two years and the pitcher hasn't shown up yet. But oh no, she was sneakier than that.


    For all the years I knew her, both Hubs and I referred to her as The Ice Queen. She always had the temperature in her house low. In the Summer, her air conditioner blasted Arctic temperature air all day and night. When we went to visit her, I always brought a sweater. In the Winter, the heat was never set above 60 degrees. She was always hot, and needed the coldness to be comfortable.


    Well, recently, my beloved Hubs has come to believe that his mom has passed that particular curse on to me. He's now taken to calling me the Ice Queen. I want the windows open. I'm always hot, while he's freezing to death. I'm sleeping with just a sheet, while he's got blankets and afghans piled on top of him. When I'm laying in bed, the TV feels like the sun on my back. But as long as he's comfortable.... while I sweat to death.


    And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the Curse of the Mother-in-Law. She was so devious not to just bring me back the stupid pitcher. I would rather have found that on my night stand, than be turned into the Ice Queen. Thanks a lot, Betty!