Some relatives treat kinship like an unlimited store credit, a magical card waved at every boundary while chanting the slogan We are family. In theory the phrase signals affection, in practice it doubles as a shopping license that never expires. Few things expose the fine print of household socialism faster than the arrival of an entitled sibling who treats your closet like a lending library without a return desk.  

This sister-in-law’s patterns unfold quickly. A borrowed candle here, a vanished phone charger there, each disappearance justified by a breezy insistence that family property is community property. Attempts to label the behavior as theft are dismissed as melodrama, much like a pickpocket accusing the victim of hoarding the wallet. Soon the homeowner conducts pre-visit evacuation drills, hiding valuables in cupboards like contraband at customs.