Every time my parents-in-law visited, my sassy MIL took over our bedroom, shoving my things aside and lighting her signature candles. One day, I decided enough was enough! I devised a plan that would leave her begging for the guest room.
I watched the clock tick down with dread, knowing that in exactly 17 minutes, Hurricane Monica would make landfall.
A woman staring at something | Source: Midjourney
My mother-in-law wasn’t just visiting — she was invading, and my master bedroom was always her first conquest.
“They’re early,” my husband Jake muttered, peering through the living room blinds.
The familiar silver sedan pulled into our driveway ten minutes ahead of schedule. Of course, they were early. Monica never played by the rules.
I smoothed my shirt and plastered on what I hoped was a convincing smile.
“Ready for the storm?” I asked.
Jake squeezed my hand. “We’ve weathered worse.”
But had we?
A woman looking out a window | Source: Midjourney
For five years, I’d watched Monica march straight into our bedroom and dump her dirty luggage on our bed.
She shoved our toiletries aside or tossed them into the bathroom cabinet so she could scatter her makeup and perfumes everywhere.
She lit scented candles without asking, and left behind heavy scents and even oily stains from her “relaxing oils.”
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