The Light Bulbs

On a typical day, when the mother-in-law lived with us, and before I went back to work, I wouldn't really see the woman or have to deal with her much unless I had to venture into the basement (where her apartment was), say, to do some laundry or take some recyclables to the garage.

On one such "pass through", the MIL asked if I had any light bulbs upstairs.

Me: Sure. Do you need one?

She: No. I was wondering if you had room where you store your light bulbs for these extras.
(And she held up a shoebox-sized carton.)

Me: Yeah. I think we've got room for that. Just let us know when you need one. You'd probably need the husband to put it in for you anyway.
(I reached for the box.)

She: (after I had taken possession of said box) Good! Now I have room to store more things. Your sister-in-law brought those, and I don't think they fit anywhere down here, anyway!

Huh?

Like many conversations she and I have, that didn't sound right to me, but since it made sense to her, I didn't say anything. I just took the box upstairs with a puzzled look on my face.
I guess I wondered why the SIL brought light bulbs that didn't fit anywhere, and then I wondered why the light bulbs couldn't go back with the SIL when they discovered none of the bulbs fit.

To this day, I don't have an answer to that.

However!

On another "pass through", when the MIL asked if we had any children's videos upstairs, I promptly replied, "Yes! We have a ton! We have so many, we don't have room for any more."

Then she scrunched up her face and said, "Well then, you're no help to me!"

Yeah. You keep your own videos, lady...