My FIL told me recently that I am not a very good daughter. I agreed with him wholeheartedly, I mean sheesh my father could have told him that year’s ago and I’m pretty sure my mum used to tell me the same thing every single day.
Why am I not a very good daughter (this time) you wonder? Well I totally get it. I am a bloody disgrace. I had the audacity to go down to the bakery and buy him some piping hot pide. I mean this bread is straight out of the oven and it is so soft that it will melt in your mouth and put centimetres onto your ass. Anyway he didn’t want pide. Why did I buy him pide? What a bloody awful DIL I am indeed.
I also do not feed him enough although when I do feed him he declares to all and sundry that my food is not good. I also do not make Turkish quality cay and I do not bathe him. I’m just going to make a very public statement here – I will never, ever bathe him! Never ever! I bathe myself. That is it. I did pull his pants up the other day when he was shuffling down the street and they fell down around his knees – but that is where I draw the line.
My FIL is a stubborn old man. He is nice enough but only as long as he gets what he wants. God forbid if shit doesn’t go his way then everyone suffers. I suspect that The Turk will morph into him when he gets older which worries me a lot. I don’t want to have to bathe The Turk either.
My FIL likes to sit on the street and yell at people as they go past, in fact in my recent post about Google maps there is a photo of him no doubt yelling at the Google car. He likes to sit at my front door and yell at me when I go past. He can often be seen sidling up to a neighbour and complaining about this and that. “I need a haircut”. “Nobody feeds me”. “My family hates me”. These are a few of his most favoured rants but there are many others that he throws around at all of us and no one is safe from his rages either.
He doesn’t, however, yell at people who steal The Turk’s Batman undies off the line. Something a little off kilter there I think.
Why does a lot of his ranting fall on me you wonder? Well I am the only one at home. Everyone else works. Which shits him too. Why do the women have to work? Don’t get me started on that! Last weekend I went to a picnic in Limonlu and God forbid I did not get home until after 7.30pm. My FIL informed The Turk that he cannot control me. The Turk’s reply? “I wouldn’t even try!”
When I think of my own excellent father I could never imagine him raising his voice or calling me (or The Turk) names but then I guess that this is the way that my FIL has always lived his life. If one is never told that the behaviour is unwarranted or unacceptable in today’s society then one will never change their ways I guess.
I could take it personally. I could raise my voice or blow my stack at The Turk but I wonder if I would be wasting my energy. I have realised that I honestly don’t really care what he thinks of me. I cannot change him but as long as I am true to myself then all is well. I continue to be respectful. I was taught that as a child – respect your elders. I ignore his blabbing and his sulking. I ignore the fact that my food sucks balls and my cay is weak and tasteless. Between you and me I totally understand now why my MIL was constantly screaming at him. I used to think it was cute. I used to think that she was a feisty old lady and when he would laugh at her it was like how I imagine a couple married for 50+ years would act. Now I realise that she actually wanted to kill him. All the time.
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