“Why is this door locked?!” my mother-in-law screamed, slamming her fists against the one room I told her never to enter. I watched through my phone camera, biting back laughter as her rage turned desperate. Then the door gave way. She stumbled..

“Why is this door locked?!” my mother-in-law, Linda, shouted down the hallway of my apartment, pounding so hard on the spare bedroom door that the flimsy frame rattled with every blow.

I watched the entire scene unfold on my phone while sitting in my office break room twenty minutes away, one AirPod in my ear, my lunch sitting untouched on the table.continue reading …