Oh good grief. I just survived an Attack of the MIL (for five days, mercifully - not as long as your seven) and suddenly found myself extremely busy with things to do out of the house/at work all week. Thank god I had somewhere to escape to. She drove me quite batty enough in the evenings though. Just one example out of thousands: she is obsessively convinced that our dishwasher is The Devil, that it's slow, expensive, wasteful, and unhygienic, and that she can wash up faster, better, and more efficiently than it can. I put it on one evening but, because of her insanely expansive and messy cooking style, I couldn't get half the stuff in. (She has to cook for us all when she's here. I'd rather she didn't but when we cook for her, she picks over her food like it's poison, criticises everything on her plate, leaves 95% of it, and then makes herself her own meal afterwards anyway.) I told her to leave the leftover stuff as it could all just go in afterwards. But no. She must prove DEFEAT THE DEVIL MACHINE. She pretty much barged me aside the second I'd snapped the door shut, and got into an actual race with the dishwasher, trying to wash up the rest of the stuff before it finished. The trouble is, she leaves the hot tap running at pretty high speed into the sink whilst she washes so that she can rinse the soap off everything before it goes on the draining rack. Forty minutes later, she triumphantly switches said hot tap off (oh goodie, can't wait for my gas and water bill this month) and announces that she has shown me how much better handwashing is. What she didn't realise it that it was on a thirty minute energy saving cycle for the very lightly messy stuff and she hadn't recognised the beep it makes when it finishes, so she had in fact lost the race ten minutes earlier. Also because she was in such a rush trying to scrub all the truly manky, crusty, burnt-on pots and pans as fast as she could, half her stuff still had shit stuck all over it, so it ended up aaalll going in the dishwasher anyway after she'd gone to bed. (I did get it out again before she got up the next morning. She annoys me to the point of distraction but I'm not that mean-spirited. And I'm sure she was very smug about how sparkly clean her washing up was in the light of morning.
)
Anyway, point being, I feel your pain. So, so much.