I had a hard time deciding which police log entry to go with for this one; it was a tie between the one I chose, and “Joe Shmoe, 41, assault with a deadly weapon (a shoe).”
Review a section from the Police Beat or Classified Ads of a local newspaper. Choose one and tell the story behind it.
Officer called to 32 Overlook Drive to investigate a report of an out-of-control daughter-in-law.
You know that old saying, “When you get married, you are also marrying your spouse’s family”? Well, take it from me—you want to be considering that fact long and hard before you jump on in to matrimonial bliss. Because unless you love his family, you could be in for a seriously stressful “as long as you both shall live.”
These were the thoughts going through my head immediately after my mother-in-law, Trudy, informed me that she had gone ahead and written all of my wedding gift thank-you notes for me.
“I knew how busy you were, what with you working all those extra-long days and all,” Trudy explained, patting the pile of cream-colored envelopes, all sealed, addressed, stamped, and ready to go. “I mean,” she continued, “how could you possibly have time to do this if you don’t even have time to cook a meal when you get home?”
As I struggled to conceal my unmitigated shock and incredulity at this latest escapade, I silently berated myself for letting it slip recently that Steve did most of the dinner prep, as he almost always got home before I did. I tried to gather myself before responding. “Trudy, I really appreciate your kind efforts, but—”
Trudy cut in. “Oh, no need to thank me, dear. That’s what family is for, after—”
I cut right back in. “—I’d really rather write them myself.” I ignored the dramatic placement of her hand over her heart and the accompanying wounded expression, and soldiered on. “I’d prefer the notes to be personal, and if you wrote them, then they won’t—”
Another interruption. “Not to worry, love! I was very personal—I even included a warm, heartfelt invitation to come by your new condo for lunch sometime.”
I felt my face redden, and my heartrate increased exponentially. I had reached a tipping point. Steve was usually around, to step in and buffer these incidents, so that my temper remained in check…but today, Steve wasn’t here. And I knew once I began, there would be no going back.
As my anger blossomed, I began to hyperventilate slightly. Unable to find the words to convey my distress and rage, I simply marched over to where Trudy stood, and swept the neat stacks of thank-you notes over the edge of the desk, in the general direction of a small office trash receptacle. Perhaps four actually fell into the trash; several actually flew into the air, striking Trudy’s arm, and the rest scattered into an artful periphery in the area around the bin. “This,” I began, trying to catch my breath, which was coming in short, shallow gasps, “is RIDICULOUS. I mean, who in their right minds would ever do such a thing?” I whirled away from Trudy’s almost comically shocked expression, and stalked five or six paces back across the room, before turning back. “I mean, you didn’t even ask…”
Trudy had quickly regained her composure, and she spoke in a maddeningly calm voice, as she moved slowly over to where her cell phone lay, on the other corner of the desk. “I can see that you are overwrought,” she began, and her fingers danced across the screen of her phone. She raised it to her ear, and continued, “and that you are far beyond reasoning. I am uncomfortable with this dangerous situation, and you have left me no choice.”
Before I could even raise an eyebrow at this mystifying pronouncement, she continued speaking, but it wasn’t to me.
“Yes, I’d like to report a physical threat to my person.” Pause. “Oh, it’s my daughter-in-law. She’s completely out of control.”