I left out an episode from the intercom saga because it was already too long, but something happened last Sunday that, while an amusing anecdote on its own, becomes much funnier (and more satisfying) if you know the earlier story.
One hot day last August, I left Pata with my mother-in-law, who was staying with us, while I went to the supermarket. Pata was sick, and Mother-in-law asked me to leave my keys with her in case they needed to go out while I was gone. I couldn’t imagine any reason they’d need to leave the house in the short time I’d be at the supermarket but my mother-in-law is a very nervous sort of person, and I didn’t want to cause her any additional anxiety. So I left my keys with her.
That month, BIL and his family were staying upstairs in their weekend/vacation/party house. Now Mother-in-law has the habit of moving often between the two houses when she stays with us, a habit I failed to take into consideration when deciding to leave my keys with her. You know where this is going, right? Did I mention in the earlier post that BIL never answers his cellphone? It took a good twenty minutes of screaming up to his balcony to get someone to hear me over the blaring television, all the while the sun beating down on the meat, eggs, milk, and other perishables I’d just bought. BIL found the whole thing hilarious.
He and his family were here with some friends last weekend. We didn’t see much of them because they went to the beach while we had errands to run. Sunday evening, BIL stopped by on his way out to buy gelato. He invited us upstairs and told us he’d be back in fifteen minutes. I finished cleaning up in the kitchen (we had just finished eating dinner) and once I was done, I suggested to N that instead of waiting for BIL, we go directly upstairs so that Pata would have more time to play with her cousins.
After about half an hour up there with no sign of BIL, I began to think that he was having a very hard time finding gelato. Ten minutes later, his wife happened to hear him screaming up at the kitchen window to open the door for him. By then it was raining. Apparently he didn’t have his keys. I couldn’t keep from laughing, and I didn’t care at all that BIL’s friends glared at me in obvious (and exaggerated) disapproval. I have every right to laugh,” I told them, “because the same thing happened to me.” I doubt very much that BIL learned a lesson, or that if he did, it’ll stick, but it was quite satisfying to even the score, even if I did it unintentionally.