We took the MIL out last night for her birthday dinner. The better-half invited his paternal aunt and his mother’s sister. I picked up his paternal aunt and he picked up his mother. The mother’s sister managed to arrive on her own, but, naturally, she couldn’t quite finish the job and called the better-half who had to roam around on the street until she lurched into view. I don’t have details on why that happened and there’s no point in asking because whatever the answer it will come down to this: bullshit.
For the next hour and a half we listened to the mother’s sister talk and talk and talk. And, then she talked some more. I’m fairly sure no one else at the table said more than 15 words apiece. When we finally got home, the better-half said it was like listening to a monologue. A monologue about nothing that just kept going and going.
Our waitress was a ditz. She asked every one of us if we wanted our appetizers and salads first. We were nice because what the waitress lacked in skill and knowledge was repaid in quadruplicate by what she had to put up with the mother’s sister. It was worse than the way Sally ordered every meal in When Harry Met Sally.
When I got home, I just laid on the couch and watched crappy television. My soul had already been sucked dry so I figured there was no harm in completely vegging out.
