In which Lyra is a nasty grouch

I gave up on my "rebel" NaNo on Friday -- at 46K and with almost three days to go. 4000 words are doable in three days (or one for that matter) so this annoys me, but there was no way to steal enough computer time without neglecting the household and the Advent preparations (one wreath, two calendars) even more. Also had to attend the birthday feast for my brother, who turned 30. TBH the feast would have been better held some other time. Thomas was absent-minded and tight-lipped because he had an observation lesson to prepare. (Only two of those left and he'll be properly qualified as a teacher.) My parents had nothing new to tell. Thomas' girlfriend (he has a girlfriend! Whom he actually introduced to us! Who was present for Julian's baptism and will be present for Christmas!) made what little conversation there was. She's nice and she had interesting things to tell. I just hope she won't be too frustrated when she realises that Thomas' "stress-induced" lack of interest in things like looking at pics of their holiday, or preparing an Advent calendar for her in turn (she prepared a very loving individual one for him), isn't actually due to stress but due to simply not thinking about it.
(Jörg immediately says "because he's a bloody egotist". This from the man who never in our relationship made, or even just bought, an Advent calendar for me, even back when he actually had spare time. No wait, this year I actually got one because OBI was giving free Advent calendars away to all customers, and Jörg happened to be a customer this year. And yes, Jörg is under a lot of stress so it probably isn't egotism. But Thomas is also under a lot of stress because he takes this observation lessons - or really, his entire Staatsexamen, because this started while he was still at university - extremely serious. ("Too serious", quoth the girlfriend, "because let's face it, he really only needs to pass these things, not deliver perfect model lessons in every single one."))

So, anyway, no Winning this year. It's bugging me a little, but not as much as it would have a few years ago. I do hope I'll manage to finish the "novel" nonetheless, and soon, because Germany currently loves travel literature and it would be a pity not to at least try to get something out of it while it lasts. (Yes, this time I really was writing with the thought of "is it going to sell" at the back of my mind. I guess that comes with the level of broke-ness that we've achieved.)

The kids are coughing, on and off. Whenever Felix has battled down one cold, he drags the next one home from Kindergarten. For the first time, Julian caught his cold too. He's still mostly cheerful but no longer low-maintenance. It's a mix of many things, I suppose: The sore throat, the teething, and the development of a keen interest in the world, particularly everything that's within sight and (should damn well be) within reach. He tries to grab whatever he sees, so it's no longer possible to do simple tasks one-handedly with him on one arm because he'll lean over and try to grab whatever I'm doing. He has absolutely no interest in pureed food, but he wants to "chew" on whatever we're having. So more or less by force, we're doing baby-led weaning this time, because the traditional way simply won't work with Julian. He's no longer happy on his own or in his cot for those blessed 30 minutes I used to get when he was younger, nor does he fall asleep so easily. So even when Felix is in Kindergarten, I very rarely have my hands free.
(I'm also increasingly frustrated with the Felix and Kindergarten and psycho stuff situation, but that's a long rant that'll probably not be written because NO TIME.)

I have absolutely zero patience with the mother-in-law at the moment. It's a miracle Jörg has only mild Burnout symptoms rather than actually breaking together, yet she's whining whether her living-room will be done by Christmas (IT DOES NOT ACTUALLY FUCKING MATTER) and she can't sleep at night because The Situation (her unfinished living-room) is making her worry. So whenever Jörg isn't working at work, he's working next door. A few days back I almost lost my temper (again). She was all "But I just really want to have it finished, I'm sure you understand". And I snapped "No, I'm sure I don't understand. I've been living on a construction site for seven years now and guess what? It hasn't killed me. So no, I don't understand what's stressing you." That shut her up, but she's probably really offended again. Too tired to care.
Anyway, she still thinks her effing living-room has to be the top priority for everyone. We had a wall to finish outside - before the winter weather sets in, ideally? - and still have a fence to do, but when Jörg actually "stole" the time for the wall at least, she was all miffed. Also miffed that a lot of wood had to be chopped and moved out of the way so the folks who put their caravan into our barn every winter could, you know, put their caravan there. Yes, they're silly about it, but it's a hundred bucks per month. Not that a hundred bucks are going to get us far, but maybe a little less further down? So yes, that was a priority. Even if you OMG SO DESPERATELY need to unpack your boxes.

Yes, she's old, and apparently it has been ingrained in her that Only Homeless Slobs And Compulsive Hoarders Live Out Of Boxes, or that You Need To Have A Presentable Living-room As Well As A Sitting-room (which is already finished and useable). There are a lot of tendencies that have been ingrained in her that I just don't get, that's the problem. She's terribly insecure. I mean, next to her, I'm bursting with confidence - and you know how unconfident I am. But seriously. If she wants to cook a Hokkaido pumpkin, she'll ask me what to do with it, then google ten recipes and ask the greengrocer about it. That'll give her at least 15 opinions (because both I and the greengrocer have more than just one idea about Hokkaido pumpkins). She might choose the wrong option! So she'll ask me again and I'll repeat what I told her before. Then the matter will rest for a week, and then the pumpkin is staring at her so accusingly that she'll want to get rid of it and ask me again for the exact same thing I said a week ago. Then she finally gets around to cooking it, but not without asking me to season it because she can't do it correctly. GOOD LORD ABOVE, IF YOU THINK IT'S TASTY, IT'S DONE CORRECTLY, WHERE'S THE FRIGGING PROBLEM. And three days later she'll asks whether it was OK to eat it with rice. WHO CARES. IF IT TASTED GOOD WITH RICE, IT WAS OK TO EAT IT WITH RICE, NO?
...
And so it goes with everything. She asks a friend who's done a Domestic Economy class (fourty years ago, so I'm sure her knowledge is really up to date and everything. She calls her friend the "master housewife". Without wanting to downgrade the skills and efforts of housewives, I just can't take that seriously.) before she'll wash her bloody tablecloths. She asks a friend who's a florist before planting the most unexacting of plants because OMG SHE MIGHT DO IT WRONG. She has zero confidence in JUST BLOODY DOING IT, she's convinced that if she doesn't get a professional opinion, she cannot possibly do it right. She's incredibly submissive to authority, and now that she lives next door, it really grates on my nerves.
Especially when I see the sort of people whom she takes to be authorities. Like me, on cooking. I never formally learned cooking. I make shit up as I go along. Most of the time I end up with edible, even delicious food, but that's not because I'm an Authority, it's because I don't generally experiment outside of my comfort zone. Formally, I bet she can cook way better than I can (she can certainly bake better than I can), but she just doesn't believe she can. OK, she really can't make lasagna. But that's because her recipe is for meat, onions, pasta, period. No sauce, no cheese. And she follows her recipes! She feels she can't do anything without instruction, really. Meanwhile, I don't like to be an Authority on something that I haven't actually trained. Her friend the florist doesn't mind, she loves to give her opinion on anything and all and believes she's an authority on gardening and landscaping and everything because after all, she's a trained florist. But that's not how I roll. I don't even feel confident in correcting the M-I-L's English homework because I'm not an English teacher. (Besides, back when I was in school, you weren't supposed to deliver perfect homework, you were supposed to make your own mistakes so the teacher knew what he had to work on in class.) I certainly don't want to give her instructions on cooking, since I myself only picked it up on the go. Also she's fourty years older than I am, who should be teaching whom? More's the pity because she must have been (at least slightly) different, and because she does have good ideas, she just doesn't trust them unless some Authority confirms them.

I don't know shit about gardening, either, but most of the time "dig a hole, put plant in (roots first), put earth back in, water generously" can't be wholly wrong. She's lacking that basic trust in her own guidelines. If I'm uncertain about something, I'll look it up, sure, but I won't bother three people about it, then forget what they said and do something else anyway! But I guess that's why she's so stressed out (and stressing everyone out) about the living-room, because she's so desperately dependent on other people's opinions and she's terrified that they'll think she can't get her act together. Or she can only like her flat when all her friends have seen it and say "Oh, very nice!" instead of "It's going to be lovely once it's all done" or something? Whatev. I shouldn't care except it's affecting me, too. And it's wearing down what little resilience Jörg still has left. (Good lord, how did he ever turn out so independent and "eff-what-people say, I'm doing my own thing"? How, with this model (and from what I hear, his dad was also rather impractical as well as dependent on other people's opinion), did he turn into a teenager who tried to create Roman armour all by himself (and did a pretty good job of it)? Into a guy who's confident that given a little time to practice, he can acquire every practical skill needed? (And into a guy who, believing that, is correct?) It's a miracle. I guess that was his pubertal rebellion?) And God, yes, I should cut her some slack because she's never been as privileged as I am. And I'm a terrible snob. And we all turn a bit complicated when we grow old, presumably. And, and. But I can't, I just can't, I can't even, I can't anymore.

Wow, long ramble turned long and it could be longer. Suffice it to say that I currently have very little patience, for anything. And very little time. I haven't managed to clean the flat for three weeks, good grief (aside from occasionally sweeping the floor). And no money, and no room. But she can't sleep because she's got two bathrooms, a bedroom, a study, a sitting-room and a kitchen, but NO USEABLE LIVING-ROOM AND EVERYBODY WILL SEE IT AND THINK I'M A HOARDER BECAUSE I STILL HAVE CARDBOARD BOXES AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO PUT MY STUFF.
("Did you sort your stuff before you packed it?" - "No, I thought I'd do that when I unpack it." So we lugged twice the boxes around. And guess what, she doesn't sort it when unpacking it, either, because she's so desperate to get it out of the way first. It all really makes sense. But I'm getting worked up again, and there's just no point. I'll try tidying some stuff up. With Julian balanced on my arm, unless he falls asleep.)

Oh right, and my car's windscreen wiper is broken. It only functions when it is absolutely dry. The tiniest bit of moisture and it freezes up and won't budge. Very useful in a windscreen wiper, that. Grouch, grouch.

Ignore this post, I think there's nothing valuable in here.