The tension in the condo kept building.
By Wednesday, the guests’ entitlement had reached natural-disaster levels. Susan had effectively taken over the bathroom. She spent an hour and a half in there morning and night, using up hot water and helping herself to Dasha’s expensive shampoo.
When Dasha noticed her premium face cream was suddenly half empty, she didn’t make a scene. She simply went to the hardware store, bought a neat little fingerprint lock, and that evening, while the guests were watching TV, installed it on the bathroom cabinet. All of her skincare went inside.
Thursday morning was greeted by an outraged shout from the bathroom. “Dasha, where’s your blue-lid face cream?” “My skin is so dry after washing!”
“Locked up, Susan,” Dasha called from the kitchen, expertly flipping a pancake in the skillet. “If your skin’s dry, use the kid lotion on top of the washer. It’s hypoallergenic.”
Eleanor appeared in the kitchen looking for tea, which now consisted of cheap tea bags because Dasha had quietly moved her good loose-leaf tea into the bedroom. “Being stingy is a sin, Dasha,” she said darkly.
“You can’t spare a spoonful of cream for your sister-in-law?” “Her hormones are all over the place from stress.” “Being stingy, Eleanor, is living on somebody else’s dime and complaining about the menu,” Dasha said with a smile as she set a stack of fresh pancakes in front of Nastya.
“Mike,” she called to her husband, “come into the kitchen for a second.” Mike shuffled in, scratching the back of his head and yawning. “I put together a little budget summary,” Dasha said, taking out her phone.
“Your sister has been here six days. She’s eaten about $60 worth of groceries, used roughly $35 of my skincare, and yesterday you ordered her $30 worth of sushi because, quote, she was sad and needed a serotonin boost.” “That’s $125 in unplanned household spending.” “Dasha, wow, that’s petty,” Mike said, frowning.
“Money is just money.”
