Why is it that I feel horrendously guilty needing some personal space after spending two entire days surrounded by a myriad of inlaws, all of whom know my husband, want to refer to the fact that they knew him when he was six (or taught him sunday school, or etc. etc.), and none of whom I’ve ever met before?

(Ok, so I met some of them once – but it was at our wedding, and I take absolutely no guilt for not remembering them.  Hell, I didn’t remember what the freaking CAKE looked like, and that I picked out myself.)

Also – I’m exercising my right to shut the f*ck up and stay out of it a lot.  I think I’m doing a pretty good job at that, at least.