I wasn’t.
We were in the middle of a fight with my brother-in-law and mother-in-law about a dog and a baby.
The baby was ours, the big Labrador-retriever was my brother-in-law’s. And he demanded that his dog could lick my baby in the face when she was crawling around. And I’d had the audacity to say that very big dogs and very small kids didn’t mix up very well. And he said that his was his baby, and that his dog never ever bit someone — let alone a child.
And then I’d murmured that I didn’t want my baby to be the first. (Anyways.)
Then my dad suddenly uttered that my aunt had died.
She had carefully written a number of long letters addressed to her husband and her son, and then she had taken a large number of sleeping pills before going to bed next to my uncle. And in the morning she had stopped breathing altogether.
And even when I told Freya what was going on and she told her mom, the shouting didn’t stop because her mom was jealous for some reason (she had tried to do the same thing once with a rope but “she had failed”), and my BIL didn’t stop either because “my dead aunt had nothing to do with it.”
(What happened to you, humanity ?)
Some years later my BIL became a father and realized all by himself that his big Labrador-retriever wasn’t his baby after all. He never apologized. My MIL never apologized either.
And my aunt is still very much dead.