Letting my sister-in-law use our house for Christmas turned into a nightmare when we returned.

And the vacation was perfect.
The kids chased waves. Dave actually finished a book. I slept to the sound of the ocean instead of the dishwasher. On our last night, Max asked if we could stay forever.

The happiness lasted until I opened our front door.

The smell hit me first—stale, sour, wrong.

I stepped inside and stopped cold.

Our kitchen looked like chaos had moved in and settled comfortably. Trash overflowing. Empty bottles lined up across the counter. Red plastic cups scattered on the floor. Sticky rings on every surface. A half-eaten bowl of food sat abandoned on the coffee table, crusted over like it had been forgotten for days.

I walked into the living room.

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