Buckle Up and Shaddup!

Let me preface this by saying that my mother-in-law is a fine woman. A lovely lady who loves me very much and treats me as if she were my own mother.

But by golly she is never going to figure out that I had a life before I moved to Germany and I have experience with many, many things. I owned a home. I held down a job. I drove every day and even made long trips alone to unfamiliar cities. I owned a variety of dogs and was able to successfully care for them. I managed to function successfully as an adult without landing in jail or burning down my home.

Then why in the name of all that is holy does she feel the need to act as if the first day I stepped foot into Germany was the first day I was ever alive on this planet?

This week has been a good example. She's going this week to her brother's house for a party for her sister-in-law's birthday. They live in a town about 30 miles outside our city and she hates it there. They wish her to stay overnight - actually for two nights - and my MIL is not keen on that idea. Not that I blame her. I'd rather sign up for that deluxe ass whipping than stay overnight in that pit of boredom. So instead of camping out in Horror Town I'm going to drive her there on Sunday morning and come pick her up later that evening.

You would think that we're planning a road trip to Mumbai with as much as she's obsessing over it.

At least five times she's gone over how we'll get there ("We'll take the Ring to the Autobahn and then you get off at the exit outside of Schönebeck and follow the state road for about 10 kilometers..."). Okay, okay, I got it! I'm pretty sure I can handle this simple trip. Hell, I found the bus station on New York Avenue in Washington, DC with no help and no real idea of where on New York Avenue the damn thing was. I found a freaking hotel in Wilmington, Deleware and up until about 10 minutes before I left home I wasn't even quite sure where in Deleware Wilmington is located. I think I can find this stinking little town, especially since you'll be with me and you were born and raised in this place!

After shopping today she insisted that we gas up the car. There's slightly less than a half tank of gas left but since I did have the car out I thought it was fine to go ahead and tank up. Saves me doing it another day. However time saving wasn't my MIL's concern - she just thought it was safer to make this trip on Sunday on a full tank.

It's a Toyota Starlet. I could have driven to Berlin and back on what gas was still in the tank. Would never convince her of that though.

I pull up to the tank and she tells me at least three times to put super in the tank. Super? You mean the kind I've been putting in the car for years? That's the kind you mean?

"Oh...and don't forget to pull that little lever on the left side to open the gas tank." Thank God she told me that because using that screwdrive to pry open the door was getting to be annoying.

I filled the tank, screwed back on the cap, closed the little door and got in the car to drive to the payment booth.

"You remember which pump it was? It was number seven, right? You remember to look at which one is was?" Well hell, if I did that then I wouldn't have the fun of annoying the shit out of the cashier making her play "Guess the Pump"!

By now I'm convinced that making this little trip on Sunday is going to be an exercise in testing my patience....all at 120 kilometers per hour. She doesn't do well with the Autobahn anyway and I just know she's going to pee her pants at ever turn.

Wonder how she'll take to the idea of riding in the trunk?