Feeling Territorial

This last month has been horrendous. Besides the dog dying, the water heater breaking, and the daycare incident, I haven't had the chance to tell you the more on-topic stories.

Before the water heater stuff happened, Jake had asked if his woodworking tools could be moved from our garage to his parents' shop. I arranged a day and asked some neighbors to come help. It was actually quite uplifting that so many people were willing to pitch in for my sorry husband (or maybe it was despite him). Most of the activity was in our garage, but I also had to go to our basement and pack a box of his woodworking books.

The next day my mom came to visit. A few days into her visit and Jake's parents said they were coming over to say hi to my mom. It was less of a friendly visit and more of a shopping run for Jake, since they arrived with a list in hand of all the things that had been forgotten. It was annoying, but I tried to be understanding. I did some barely audible grumbling when they said, "You forgot some books." Not, Oh please go look to see if there are any other books. Whatever, I soothed myself by thinking about how I'm unloading his stuff from my life.

My mom and I went away for a few days because of the broken water heater. When we came back, my mother was trying to put away the stroller and found the storage area locked - I never lock that door. I had to go find the key.

The very next day, after my mom had left, I invited Jake's parents over to visit the kids. They came with another list. This time, more of the items were in our house and basement instead of the garage. They barely looked at the kids. I stayed calm by imagining that this was the LAST time they would need to do this.

While they were collecting items from my house (without any please or thank you or do you mind?), I happened to mention the storage area being locked and asked if they had gone in there last time.

Kay said, "Oh, I must have locked it when we came over the weekend - you were gone then." Steam started blowing out my ears, I swear, and yet I smiled because I didn't know what else to do.

I said, "Well, I was really freaked out because I wasn't sure that I knew where the key was."

Big Rev shrugged, "That's okay, we had a key."

Are you kidding me people? They acted totally at ease with coming and going from MY residence without notifying me or getting permission! And they were completely unconcerned that I would be able to have access to my own possessions (but THEY had access, so it was okay).

Finally, before they left, I got up the nerve to say, "Next time you're coming over, let me know. The locked storage area . . . that was a little wierd."

And they did ask the next time. How many more times will they do this? I'm feeling threatened and encroached upon.