I adore you all, but we need to have a serious chat about something that’s been driving me up the wall—yes, I’m looking at you, Dad and Teen. It’s high time we addressed the constant meddling with my things.
I’ve let this slide for far too long, and I realize now that I should have set boundaries from the start. In retrospect, I did lay down some ground rules, but they seem to have gone ignored. My belongings deserve the same respect as everyone else’s; after all, I don’t have a lot of stuff. When we made the move from Miami to Seattle, it became painfully obvious just how little was truly mine—four boxes of books and a handful of clothes. And don’t even think about claiming the “household items” as mine; that’s a whole other can of worms.
Remember That Time?
Remember that time I bought a shiny new car, only for it to get scratched by the handlebars of a bike? Or when I lent it out, and it came back with a cracked windshield? Don’t even get me started on the chaos that ensued inside the car.
It’s a miracle I haven’t lost my cool yet.
The Disappearing Act
I’ve watched my favorite body wash disappear, seen my gelato vanish because someone was “impatient,” and had my gadgets commandeered. Oh, and let’s not forget the time my Netflix profile got hijacked and renamed “Betty the Great.”
As someone who prides themselves on their taste, it’s unbearable to think that Netflix might assume I enjoy anime. And for the record, “Betty” is not a name I appreciate; it’s Liz or Mom, thank you very much! I’m serious about this—Netflix is always watching, and you two are ruining my recommendations.
The Nutella Ultimatum
I’ve taken all this one-sided sharing like a champ, but one thing is off-limits from now on: the Nutella.
Yes, that glorious jar of hazelnut happiness belongs solely to me. No more slathering it on waffles or dipping fingers in it. In your world, Nutella does not exist.
I will not hide it away, nor will I consume it in secret. Everyone else’s items are out in the open, and I expect the same respect in return. And if I happen to forget to restock my Nutella, let this be a warning: do not touch the Tostitos queso. The stakes are high, folks.
Thank you both for understanding. I love you dearly (but not enough to share my Nutella).
Your loving Nutella Guardian,
Big Cheese
Further Reading
For more insights on family dynamics and self-care, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination at womenshealth.gov. And if you’re looking for tips on fertility, Make A Mom is a great place to start. To learn more about privacy in this context, visit our privacy policy.
Summary
In this humorous letter, a family member expresses frustration over the constant invasion of their personal belongings, particularly highlighting the sacredness of their Nutella. The message is clear: respect boundaries and personal items, with a comedic flair that underlines the importance of individual space within a family.