There are several things you expect to find missing when you come home from work—an Amazon package, leftovers, or a missing sock. Your bedroom door is generally not on the list.

I stopped halfway down the hallway. Our bedroom doorway was completely empty.

The heavy wooden door was leaning against the opposite wall, while the hinges, screws, and doorknob were neatly arranged in a row on the carpet. My mother-in-law, Grace, stood inside our bedroom folding my husband Harold’s shirts.

“What did you do?” I asked, stunned.

Grace didn’t even turn around. “You two keep closing yourselves in here like teenagers. It’s ridiculous.”

“You took our door off?”

She looked at me coldly. “My son has nothing to hide from me.”

“This is my bedroom too,” I said, trying to process the madness. “And we bought this house together.”

Grace had been staying with us for five days while a pipe was being repaired in her apartment. From day one, boundaries meant nothing to her. She walked in on me changing clothes, rooted through Harold’s private desk drawers, and even made snide comments about my birth control pills left on the nightstand.

Harold had warned her twice to knock, but Grace simply brushed him off with: “I gave birth to you 38 years ago, I can walk in whenever I want.”

And now, she had used Harold’s drill to dismantle our privacy completely.

“A family shouldn’t need all these barriers,” Grace declared smugly.

Just then, the front door opened downstairs. Harold walked up the hallway, loosening his tie. He stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at the empty doorway, the door leaning against the wall, the screws on the floor, and then at his mother.

“Mom,” Harold said softly.

Grace smiled. “Much better, isn’t it?”

I waited for Harold to explode. I was ready to pack her bags myself. Instead, he picked up one of the screws, looked at his mother, and quietly asked, “Did you use my drill?”

“The little one,” she replied proudly.

Harold put the screw down, took my hand, and said, “Come downstairs.”

I followed him into the kitchen, furious. “If you’re about to tell me she’s only here for five more days, I’m going to need you to reconsider your strategy!”

Harold looked at me with a strange, calm smile. “I’m not. I’m going to teach her a lesson. Just wait until she goes to bed.”