There is a special, unhinged category of choosing beggars that is reserved for family members. You know the type. You offer them an umbrella in the rain, and they get mad it isn’t a brand new car. This story, my friends, is the Mona Lisa of that category. It is a masterpiece of audacity.
Our narrator is a person who, in a moment of saint-like generosity, agreed to let their 28-year-old brother and his 30-year-old wife move in. The brother had lost his job and all his savings. They had “no other options,” the classic six-word horror story.
Did the narrator have a sprawling guest wing? A finished basement? No. The narrator has a one-bedroom apartment. They bought a blow-up mattress and gave this couple their entire living room. This was never a “guest suite.” This was a “cot in a shared space.”
For the first month, things were cramped but fine. But then, the entitlement started to creep in. The blow-up mattress was, predictably, hurting the brother’s back. So, he asked to buy a small double bed and put it in the living room. The host, still in “saint” mode, agreed, with the very reasonable condition that there still be room for their own couch, TV, and bookshelves. You know, the things that make a living room a living room.
But oh, the bed changed everything. The bed turned these two grateful guests into territorial monsters. The living room was no longer a shared space. It was their room. For the last two months, the vibe has gotten… weird. When the host comes home from work and wants to, God forbid, sit on their own couch, they get the “pointy stare” from the couple who are sitting in their bed.
They’re not just staring. They are actively asking the owner of the apartment for “alone time.” They are telling the person who is housing them for free to please vacate the main hub of the house so they can have a little privacy. The nerve is so bright, I have to wear shades.
Eventually, it all came to a head. The sister-in-law, in an act of entitlement so pure it should be studied in a lab, messaged the host a “timetable.” A schedule. A laminated, color-coded (I’m assuming) schedule of when the owner of the apartment would be allowed to use their own living room.
The terms of this hostage negotiation? The host was graciously “allowed” into the room for one hour each evening, plus 20-minute windows around mealtimes. I am screaming. This isn’t a houseguest. This is an occupying force.
The host, finally, had enough. They shut that nonsense down immediately, stating the obvious: “it’s my apartment.” But the sister-in-law’s reaction wasn’t shame. It was rage. She sent back a “HUGE message” with a dozen paragraphs about how the host’s constant presence was “ruining” her marriage.
Let’s just pause here. Your marriage is not being ruined by the person whose couch you’re six feet away from. Your marriage is being ruined by the fact that you lost your job and are living in your sister’s living room.
And then, the final act of this tragic comedy. An Amazon package arrived. For the brother. It was a lock for the living room door. They were planning to physically bar the owner of the apartment from their own open-plan kitchen and living space.
When the host refused, the brother called them “creepy” for “wanting constant access to where they sleep.” Sir. You are sleeping in a hallway. You are sleeping in the room with the refrigerator. This isn’t “creepy.” This is “needing a glass of water.”
So, is the host the ahole for not giving her ungrateful, rent-free tenants their privacy? Absolutely not. You are not the ahole. You are a saint who is being held captive by two of the most entitled people on the planet. “Privacy” is a privilege that comes with paying rent and having your own walls. It is not something you get to demand from the person whose home you have colonized.
Absolutely NTA. You no longer have house guests, you have squatters. And they’re your brother and SIL. Bro & SIL are ungrateful and have no respect for you. They seem to have forgotten that you are helping them “until they can afford their own place again”, emphasis on “helping them”. You are helping them against your better judgment and at great inconvenience to yourself. I cannot imagine what the bathroom situation is like, especially if all three need to get ready or “go” at the same time. It is time to put your foot down. Do not ask your brother to refrain from installing this lock on the living room door. Sternly inform him that this is your home and that he will not be installing a lock. If he proceeds to do so, he and SIL will have X amount of time to vacate your home or you will begin formal eviction proceedings. Prepare yourself for the whinging and insults, but hold fast and weather the storm. One of two things will happen. 1, brother and SIL will see the error of their ways, have a moment of clarity, so to speak, and things will improve for a while. Until they decide again that their privacy is more important than yours and your living space. 2, brother and SIL will suddenly have the funds for a place of their own or have miraculously discovered someone else off whom they may freeload and violate boundaries. My guess is that they played the “no other option” card at the onset of this fiasco because they thought they would most likely be able to annex and take over at your place, not because they in truth had absolutely zero other options. Irrespective of that, you need your own space and privacy as well and your squatters have absolute zero respect for you, your privacy, or your boundaries. Overall, OP, you know this experiment has run its course and it is time to put the farce to an end. I do not envy you the days ahead and the steps it might take to get there. And there is a very real possibility that brother and SIL will go low or no contact with you in the time that follows, but this arrangement is not working. You are definitely NTA, though you may need to be (and it would be completely warranted) if you want to recover your home, peace, privacy, and sanity. NTA.