tmv-The first time I found my mail moved and my thermostat changed, I blamed my memory. Then my slippers were lined up in the hallway, and I realized someone had been inside my house. My son and daughter-in-law called it “helping,” but the spare key I gave them for emergencies had become permission to manage my life like widowhood made me helpless. Then Clara showed up with a contractor to measure my kitchen without asking. She thought family meant access. By the next morning, the locks were changed, the office had written instructions, and my home finally belonged to me again.
duckok