Buying your own house in your twenties is supposed to be a triumph, not an open invitation for every family wild card to treat your guest room like a halfway house. Enter Tasha, the cousin who’s been dodging accountability since grade school and whose life choices read like a warning label for bad decisions ahead. After years of distant family gatherings and minimal contact, she calls out of the blue, skips the pleasantries, and announces she’ll be moving in. No request, no gratitude, just a heads-up that your spare room is now her crash pad for a few months. Translation: until you change the locks.