After we got married, Connor gave up his rental and moved in with me. Then he said his mother was lonely back home, asked if she could come stay for a little while.
I figured the house was big enough. I said yes.
That "little while" turned into three full years.
And it wasn't just Connor and Rebecca who'd made themselves at home. Fay showed up constantly, dragging Candy along, parking themselves in my guest room for months at a stretch.
The kid's toys ended up scattered across every room. The couch was permanently dusted with snack crumbs. The bathroom floor was always slick with water and matted with stray hair.
Whenever those two were around, the house was a disaster zone.
Sometimes I just couldn't stand it anymore. I'd ask Fay to clean up after herself, but Rebecca would immediately smooth things over.
"A little mess gives the house character. Too clean and it doesn't feel like a home."
Connor would chime in too.
"My family's lived like this our whole lives. You can't expect people to change overnight. Just be a little more understanding."
But now?
My mother had dropped a single strand of hair.
And they wanted to throw her out in the middle of the night.