I used to be nice and happy-go-lucky.  Now I’ve turned into an unhappy clock watcher, just waiting for the MiL to get sick.  Or for her brother-in-law to get sick because she’s told me that when he passes away, she plans to move back in with her sister.  Her living with us wasn’t so bad at first, but familiarity breeds contempt.  Multiply one year of ugliness by 12, divide by a blatant show of favoritism (my oldest daughter and I are not on the receiving end of it), add two bitter divorces, the other women, and a martyr complex.  Now you see what I live with.  And it ain’t pretty.