We are several months into a worldwide health crisis and my mother-in-law is currently laid off from her work. This means she’s home three extra days per week when she’d normally be working. She lives with my husband and me.

It’s just after dinner on a Sunday night and we’re getting ready to do the dishes when she turns to me.

“The soap is going down much faster than it used to,” she says. “Don’t worry about washing your hands for twenty seconds. You only have to do that if you go out and you don’t go out.”

I resist rolling my eyes visibly at her and take my container from lunch upstairs. I seriously can’t believe how dumb she’s being. First of all, we use liquid soap, so whether we wash our hands for ten seconds or twenty, the same amount is used. Secondly, does she not even think that her being at the house for an additional eight to ten hours, three days a week, for the past six weeks might make a difference?

My husband and I enjoy baking as a hobby and decide it’s time we learned to make sourdough bread. Over the winter holidays, we’re gifted some starter — basically a mixture of fermented flour and water — from my father-in-law that he has been maintaining for at least two decades, despite not actually baking bread that often.

We dive right into bread-making, and while our first attempts turn out far from perfect, we have fun experimenting with different recipes and showing off the results to my in-laws.

Every time we talk about it, my father-in-law laments that he’s never been able to get the hang of sourdough and that his bread never turns out right. We tell him what we’ve been learning, and we give a few website and recipe recommendations, but on he goes with his “It never works for me” attitude.

Fast forward a few months, and he asks us for our favorite recipe so he can make some bread for Easter, on the day before Easter. If you’re unfamiliar with sourdough, it takes much longer than bread risen with commercial yeast, and you often start it at least a day ahead of time, depending on how “active” your starter is.

Again, the man has had a sourdough starter for literal decades but seems to have very little idea of how the timing works. We manage to find a recipe that can be done in one day and send it along.

Due to the health crisis, we don’t gather in person for Easter, but we text and video call and ask how the bread is going. The picture sent is… interesting. The dough doesn’t look like it’s risen, and it’s cracked on top and looks dry like it wasn’t covered. We ask what recipe he used.

My father-in-law explains, “Oh, I didn’t have time, so I just winged it. Didn’t really use any measurements or directions.”

And he wonders why his bread never turns out?

(I am out shopping with my sister-in-law, who has a huge temper and is easily offended. She wants to buy a small plastic tub for her son, my nephew, and is currently looking at some that are on a higher shelf. A store associate notices her trying to unstack them and comes over.)

Employee: *very politely* “Excuse me. Would you like some help with that?”

Sister-In-Law: *politely back* “Oh, no, thanks. I’ve got it.”

Employee: “Okay! Let me know if you need anything.” *walks away*

Sister-In-Law: *to me* “Can you believe that?!”

Me: *confused pause* “What?”

Sister-In-Law: “That was so rude! Why isn’t she just helping me? And it wouldn’t even be an issue if these weren’t so high on the g**d*** shelves!”

(I am speechless. She continues to struggle with the tubs until she separates them, and then she decides she doesn’t even want one, so she tries to put them back on the shelf with difficulty.)

Employee: *notices her struggling and comes back, with a smile* “Can I help you with that? Or I can put them away if you have decided that you don’t want any of them.”

Sister-In-Law: *smiling back* “Oh, no, I’ve got it. Thanks so much!”

(As soon as the employee leaves, my sister-in-law turns to me.)

Sister-In-Law: “What horrible customer service! I can’t believe she didn’t pick those up for me!”

Me: *dumbfounded* “She offered to help you twice.”

Sister-In-Law: “Yeah, rudely. Like, I know you’re miserable to work here, but can you please be polite? And seriously, why would she put those tubs up so high? So dumb!”

Me: “Umm, [Sister-In-Law], she was polite and very helpful. And I don’t think she personally stacked those tubs there.”

Sister-In-Law: *mumbling* “Didn’t help at all…”

(She is so bothered by the experience that we leave without buying anything. When we get back to her house, I overhear her telling my brother — her husband — the story from the other room.)

Sister-In-Law: “You should have been there, babe. The store clerk was so rude to me! This b**** refused to help me! And then, at the end, she got this snotty attitude and was like, “You obviously can’t lift those yourself; just let me do it,” and I was like, why was it up there in the first place? I wouldn’t have needed help with it if she knew how to stock a d*** shelf.”

Me: *coming in* “Woah, woah, woah. That’s not how it happened.”

(I explain how polite the clerk was and how she tried to help [Sister-In-Law] twice, but that [Sister-In-Law] would not let her.)

Brother: “Yeah, [Sister-In-Law] has been doing that kind of thing a lot lately…”

(They divorced a few years later. My brother is with a much nicer woman now.)

(My husband’s brother moves in with us as he is unable to work due to medical issues. I have been joking with my friends that it is like I have two husbands, and one pretty much demands to know where I am going, who I am going with, etc. Basically, it’s like 20 questions if I go out, even when I’m working. My husband has never been like that. One afternoon, I get home from work after doing a task that was very dusty. I quickly shower and get changed before I head to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. Usually, I have tea first. My brother-in-law enters the kitchen and demands:)

Brother: “Where have you been all day? You said you were working; you aren’t dressed for work, so where did you go?”

Me: “What the h***? I changed my clothes!”

Brother: “Oh… Okay.” *leaves the room*

(I speak to my husband and ask him to talk to his brother because I am getting fed up with it.)

Husband: “It’s not just you; he does it to me, too.”

(It’s about three months after my mother-in-law, who is estranged from all her kids and grandchildren, died. I get a call from a medical alert company. This is a company you pay a fee to and you wear a bracelet or necklace with a button that, when pressed, has medical help dispatched to your home. The rep who calls me asks if I am the daughter-in-law. I confirm and ask why he is calling me.)

Company Representative: “Well, we lost contact with your mother-in-law’s medical alert device and wanted to make sure she was okay.”

Me: “Well, considering she’s been dead for three months, I would have to say no.”

Company Representative: *stuttering* “Oh, I… I… am so sorry. I… I hate making calls like this. Again, I am so sorry.”

Me: “You would be the only one.”

Company Representative: “Huh?”

Me: “Look. The woman was an abusive alcoholic. Frankly, there isn’t a person in the family who is sad the evil woman is gone.”

Company Representative: *silence*

Me: “Now, if you are calling about an unpaid bill…” *which is the real reason I figured they called*

Company Representative: “Normally, under these circumstances, we wouldn’t even discuss that, but since you did bring it up. We do need to get the equipment back because she was leasing it.”

Me: “Sorry, I can’t help you. None of her kids or family has a key to the house. She left everything to some shyster lawyer who is supposed to sell whatever she had, which wasn’t much, and give the money to charity.”

(I gave the man the lawyer’s number and told him not to call again or bother any other family members. I felt kind of sorry for the guy but some family members said I gave him a great story to tell his coworkers.)