Then came the final straw: my sacred Saturday morning coffee.
I stumbled into the kitchen to find her sipping the last of my special blend from my favorite mug. Around her, the kitchen was a disaster zone.
“Linda, could you help with the dishes today?” I asked calmly.
She didn’t even look up. “I’m sure you’ll get to it, sweetheart.”
Something inside me snapped. But I didn’t yell. I smiled—because a perfect plan had just bloomed in my mind.
If she wanted to be treated like a guest, then so be it.
The next morning, she awoke to a printed menu on her nightstand titled: “Welcome to the Family B&B!” with options like cereal, toast, or a “chef’s surprise” of leftover scraps. She came into the kitchen, puzzled.
“What’s this?”
“A little something to make your mornings easier,” I said cheerfully. “Guests shouldn’t have to fend for themselves.”
When she asked for her usual omelet, I informed her that “upgraded meals” weren’t included in the complimentary stay.
