@spitefulandbadgrammar
God that is so accurate. The questions. From everyone. All the fucking time.
DH asking me everything obvious like the 'shall I put the pizza in the oven?' type stuff. And it's the pizza I've shopped for, collected, put away, got back out, suggested for tea, got out the fridge and left by the cooker, turning the oven to heat up, and reminding DH to cook it at 5pm because I have to do X. Then 5pm comes and he asks if he should put it in. Yes! Yes put it in the fucking oven! Fucks sake!
3 kids who ask me everything, constantly, even when DH is there, even if he is more likely to know, even if they're halfway through a conversation with him, they'll ask me.
Relatives who ask about everything. What to get for birthdays, and Christmases, and what to bring, and what to take, and what to wear and what to eat and where we're going and what we're doing and where we sit and where we stand and how it works, and how much it costs, etc etc ad nauseum. As though I'm the only person in the universe who can organise anything, or find out any information.
I was cooking fried eggs for breakfast on a recent family holiday (I did all the cooking for 15 people) and my MIL asked me if the egg shells go in the bin. 🤯 Maybe it's genetic.