I am 26 and my husband is 27. We’ve been married for 2 years.

4 months ago, we moved in to our own house. It’s a spacious home, and my in-laws helped us buy it by loaning us 80% of the money.

But ever since we moved, my husband’s family of 8 comes to lunch every Sunday. They say that the house is big and could fit us all. I cook for them, clean and do the dishes. Not once has anyone stepped into the kitchen to help.

The other day, I told my husband I’d had enough. His response was, “They got us the house—this is your thank you?”

That left me speechless.

That Sunday, when they came, I was all smiles. I even made their favorite dish.

But without telling anyone, I had prepared a scene to turn their perfect Sunday getaway into a memory they would not forget.

Is the house in your name only? If not, where is your husband’s thanks? Get a hold of his credi card and order out lunch every Sunday with his money, and serve in disposable dishes and glasses. That’ll be your husband’s share of thanks

What they found was chaos: I had smashed the dishes, opened cans, bottles, bags of flour and rice, and scattered everything across the floor. Tomato sauce covered the walls. The kitchen looked like a scene from a horror movie.

I turned to them and said, “Since you feel like this house is yours, then cleaning it is on you, not me.”

I had already packed my bags. I told my husband I needed space before I left.

That night, he called me in a rage. He said what I did was horrendous, that I embarrassed him in front of his family.

The truth is, I just wanted to teach him a lesson—because he wouldn’t listen any other way.
Did I go too far?