upon waking up this morning, i decided to emerge out of my room. yes, i had to decide to go out of my room. i actually hesitated slightly before turning the knob. why, you might ask?
because i have a sibling–not just an ordinary sibling, mind you.
in jr. high.
a deep sigh escaped me as i pushed open the door from my dear space of solitude to <<enter dramatic music here>> . . . the rest of the house.
upon making it to the living room, she spots me. melissa. she arranges herself innocently on the couch. a gleam in her eye. a smile on her lips.
“good morning, steph! my dearest, sweetest sister!”
never, ever, EVER a good sign.
i mumble here about being her only sister.
“so, stephanie, what are you going to do today? shopping?! do you want to go shopping?!”
interpretation: will you take me shopping?
“you never go shopping anymore.”
interpretation: you never take me shopping anymore.
“please?! you’ll have so much fun!”
interpretation: i’ll have so much fun doing whatever i want while you chase me around the store, eventually losing me around aisle eleven and eventually having to page me over the intercom after 12.75 hours when you finally lose your patience and then, of course, i will be mad at you for embarrassing me in public and, as a punishment, i will not talk to you for 7.89 minutes, until i forget and start telling you about all the purchases i made that i found on the dollar aisle in target. fun! fun! fun!
so i say, “i don’t know, we’ll see.”
“OH GOOD! i’ll get in the shower.”
that would at least buy me 3.14 hours of time–normally. however, she pops out on the blink of an eye, throws on some clothes, grabs her teenie-bopper purse, and starts hovering in the living room. i’m still sitting on the loveseat.
in my pajamas.
“steph, i bet you are hungry. you should fix you some of your special ravioli before we go.”
interpretation: i am hungry. fix me some ravioli before you take me shopping.
then pipes up my mom, “stephanie, fix your sister some ravioli. she’s misses you when you aren’t home.”
i feel used.
so, after fixing my “special ravioli,” (patent pending) i decide to check my email. she looks at me, listening to the soft, methodical rhythm of my typing, and asks,
“are you getting in the shower soon?”
i’m actually questioning the interpretation of this one. i’ve narrowed it down to potentially two options:
1) now that i am fed, i am completely ready to go. i want to go now. take me now so we can begin “the fun.”
2) i want to check my email on your computer, and if you are in the shower, i can use it. so hurry and get in.
oh dear. she just realized that i’m writing about her. she wants to know what i’m saying. she wants to know if i am using her name. she wants to know if i will hurry so she can see if her friend, luke taylor, has emailed her. (that answers the interpretation question above–option 2.)
she says that i must use a fake name, so people won’t know who i’m talking about.
okay, fine. in this post, wherever it says melissa, please substitute the name “ashley.” 😉