Siren.
I think there is something fundamentally wrong with the fact that I put Everything But the Girl on the same CD as Mystikal.
. . .
Mom and Lauren are back for the weekend. I missed the rapid fire belly laughs, and having to sit down because I couldn't breathe, and the sillyness that's generated. And I miss being the only noise in the house.
I'm starting to believe my sister and I are really boys trapped in the wrong bodies. Yesterday, she's sitting in my lap, pushing my lips together so when I talk I sound funny. (If you've never been around kids, they really like to misconstrue your face for laughs) She lets out a belch that would put a frat boy to shame. We both start laughing hysterically.
Later on, I burped in her face.
Completely straight faced, "That was not as good as the one I did earlier."
"You're right. You have emerged victorious again."
But. When I put her in a full nelson, it takes about 30 seconds before she's screaming, "CARIE'S THE QUEEEN! CARIE'S THE QUEEEN! CARIE'S THE QUEEEN!"
Oh. I'm afraid of being a parental unit. It will be complete chaos.
. . .
This place between a rock and a hard place is transient state. If she stays in the mountains for the rest of the school year, I'll stay in the house. If she comes back to stay here, I'll stay in the house for a while longer. If she decides to go on to Kansas, I'll be out of here.
Regardless, the earliest I have to leave is January 30th. So totally not enough time. So totally how I operate.
. . .
Today, I would say yes to everything.