MIL for sale!
Grrrr, sometimes, with me, anyway, it's not the little things so much as it is ALL the little things that build up. I know it's not healthy for me or the rest of the household, and I am trying to get a grip. MIL is constantly rearranging my stuff in the kitchen, knowing full well I don't like it. I've told her I keep things where I do for reasons.
Yesterday, unloading the dishwasher, I noticed my toy drawer looked off. Then it hits me, my dry-measuring cups are gone. So I go hunting. I find them in the drawer that she had asked me to reserve as "her" drawer only. She'd not just put them there, but buried them under her rolling pin, mandoline (ouch!) and her set of nasty old plastic measuring cups. Alongside my immersion blender she insisted was hers. Mind you, she has three sets of measuring cups and does not need mine. I don't use hers because she doesn't keep things clean. I find things of mine weekly that have magically made their way into "her"drawer. The blender, my wire whisks, cookie scoops, dough scrapers, etc. You name it, she claims it. Despite the fact that some of my things have my initials etched in from when I'd take things to work with me. And she already has more than one of everything she takes from me.
DH wants me to be nice about it, insisting that she means well. I disagree, because she knows full well what she's doing and I've made clear to her that I put things in certain places because I blind-reach for things as I work and expect them to be there. She likes to think of herself as a gourmet cook and owns 100s of cookbooks and more toys than she'll ever use, taking up about 75% of the cupboards in the kitchen of my house. But she rarely cooks. I told DH I tolerate her domination of the cupboard space on the condition that MY stuff be left where I put it.
She self-medicates, booze, pills, etc. I've had to put key locks on my bedroom door and my home office so she stays out of my papers and my medicine cabinet. I'm getting close to doing the same with the kitchen.
Gosh, did I ramble, and I am sorry. This looks petty, I know. It's actually the tip of a complicated iceberg. The kitchen is just too close to my heart. Thanks for listening, to those of you that have read this far. I do feel better just for having gotten this out.