DEAR Jasminda,
THE other night, my brother-in-law invited himself over for dinner.
However, I had not prepared enough for him (as he was unannounced), and he got annoyed and left. Now he won’t reply to either my husband’s or my messages.
How do you suggest I go about this?
Normine B
Dear Normine,
I’m picking up some pretty serious psycho vibes from your conundrum.
Normine B? Is there a Norman in the family? Is your surname Bates?
Does he have a penchant for taxidermy and/or a mother in the attic?
I am not here to judge, though, Normine.
So let’s turn to your question and address the facts.
Your brother-in-law arrived unannounced.
This in itself could be normal or aggravating depending on whether you are a social creature or an introvert who likes to get mentally (and in this case gustatorily) prepared for visitors.
When you are not expecting drop-in guests, dinner plans can range from Weetbix (with hot or cold milk as desired) to a toasted sandwich, to a menopausal breakdown where you tell your family you are retiring to the bedroom with a box of Ferrero Rochers and (after devoting the past 30 years to meals on the table) they can eat bread and pullet under the table for all you care.
But I digress.
Arriving unannounced for dinner is not acceptable behaviour for anyone, even a relative.
People need to give a bit of notice.
Let’s turn to the next piece of information.
You have not indicated how your brother-in-law showed his annoyance.
Did he storm out, his solitary Jatz cracker left untouched?
Did he reverse aggressively down the driveway (narrowly avoiding Maestro, the family dog)?
The evidence is very light on here, Normine.
May I suggest you are drawing connections when they may not exist.
What concerns me most, is that he is not replying to either of you.
I have a vision of your brother-in-law (aka the unnamed protagonist) driving off (in his 1957 Ford Custom) in the pelting rain. Feeling faint (now is not the time for regret, Normine), and too tired and dejected to continue (Bernard Herrmann’s musical score in the background), he pulls into a shady-looking motel (coincidentally owned by your brother) who suggests a simple cheese and ham sandwich in the parlor.
Normine, I suggest you hire a private investigator (perhaps one named Arbogast) to see what on earth is going on here.
Let me know how it all goes.
I will await (eating popcorn) with (Norman-Bated) breath.
Carpe diem,
Jasminda.
