When my wife, Nina, and I returned from vacation, we expected peace. Instead, we found our home turned into a disaster zone. Beer cans, dirty laundry, and a horrible smell filled the living room. And there, sprawled on our couch like he owned the place, was my older brother, Ted.
“Ted, what the hell? Why are you in my house?” I demanded, trying to contain my anger.
“Oh, hey, Jeremy,” he said casually. “Mom and Dad figured it’d be easier if I moved in while you were gone. You’ve got space, and you’re barely here.”
“You moved in? Without asking?”
“Yeah, so what? I needed a place, and you’d just say no.”
Before I could explode, my phone rang—Mom. Of course.
“Jeremy, don’t be dramatic,” she said. “Ted needed a place, and you have extra space. You don’t even have kids yet.”
“Mom, he’s 42! He’s been mooching off you for years, and now you’re dumping him on me?”
“Stop being selfish,” my father chimed in. “You have the house, the money, the wife. Family takes care of each other.”
Ted snorted from the couch. “It’s just a house. Why are you making a big deal?”
“You freeload off Mom and Dad, and now you think I’ll put up with it?” I shot back. “Why not live with one of your kids and their moms?”
A messy living room | Source: Midjourney
“Because I’m family! Mom and Dad warned me you’d act like this.”
I was done. “Fine, Ted. Stay. Let’s see how that works.”
But Nina wasn’t having it. “You have a week to get him out, or I’ll stay gone,” she warned before leaving for her sister’s place.
Determined, I made Ted’s life unbearable. First, I disconnected the Wi-Fi—his lifeline. Then, I shut off the hot water, making his long showers unbearable. I stocked the fridge with nothing but tofu and vegetables, knowing he hated healthy food. And every morning at 6 a.m., I blasted music while working out.
By day five, he was losing it. “Jeremy, this is BS. No Wi-Fi, no hot water, no food I like. I can’t stay here.”
“I thought you’d be grateful,” I said smugly. “You’re not paying rent or contributing. What’s the problem?”
Fuming, he grabbed his things. “Forget it, I’m going back to Mom and Dad’s.”
As he left, I smiled. I cleaned up, restocked proper groceries, and cooked Nina a nice meal. When I called her, she was thrilled. “Come home, honey.”
Later, I called my parents. “Ted’s gone. He won’t be back.”
Mom was livid. “Where will he go?”
“That’s his problem, Mom. He’s 42. If you want to coddle him, fine. But I’m done.”
Ted ended up living in my parents’ garage—on the condition that he got a job. He hated it, and they blamed me, but I didn’t care. Nina and I had our home back, and we were finally at peace.
What would you have done?
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