This house a giant crap hole. A black hole of crapness. My sister, the ultimate manipulator has gotten her way once again. I think I mentioned a few posts back that she was not sleeping in her room anymore because it’s so messy and she wanted new stuff. Well. For the last five or so days, she has emptied nearly her ENTIRE room into both my room and my parents’ room. That’s A LOT of stuff. She has videos, DVDs, shelves, blankets, magazines, books, clothes, trinkets, pictures, posters, crayons, pencils, stuffed animals….. oh gosh, she has so much garbage in her room that they could make it into a garbage museum.
It’s interesting how my sister can turn events so that she can get her way with things. Under that “little cute girl” facade, there’s an evil dictator just dying to get out. She has gotten us within a week’s time to empty her entire room, clean it out, then go out to buy her primer, paint rollers, and different paint colors for her room. Then we need to go out and buy completely new stuff for her room.
My sister is not a rookie at this game, either. I can remember when we first moved into our house. My father, the genius of the family (sense the sarcasm?) cut off the back of our house so that we could have a back yard. When he did this, a bit of the space in the house was lost. The house was small enough, and he had made it smaller. Then, with the way he arranged everything on the second floor, it worked out that there were only two bedrooms since one of the possible bedrooms was turned into the washroom. That meant that my sister and I would have to share a room. We did this for a little while, using tacky bookshelves as room dividers (another ingenious plan of my father’s). That got annoying, though. I then moved out into the little middle room area which is sort of an alcove you come to when you come upstairs in our house. There was no wall and no privacy at all. Then I tried sleeping in the wash room. I had to put up with the sound of the washer and dryer while trying to sleep, so that didn’t really work out. Then I moved into a room downstairs that my father had been using as his office. That was my room for about four years. Unfortunately, since it was downstairs, it really scared me at night being all alone. I would come upstairs and sleep on the floor a lot. This year I moved back into the little alcovie room on the second floor, but this time I have little curtains for privacy. So. In the entire time that we have lived in this house, I have not really had a real bedroom. My sister is the one with the real bedroom.
I’m not saying that my sister purposely pushes her way into getting what she wants– although I’m not saying that she doesn’t, either. Maybe it’s because she’s younger. I don’t know.
With all of this mess, it’s been very hard to do anything. If the house is at a certain point of messiness, my will to do anything drops. I have basically no motivation at all when the house is icky.
On top of all of this, I’m completely out of face wipes. I like to have hygienic products ALWAYS available to my use. If they’re not available, I feel like I always need them. I’m like a drug addict to those things. “Get me facewipes!” MUST. FEEL. THE. TINGLE.
So I’m now living a cramped, stinky, cold (did I mention that this summer is freezing?) and facewipeless existence. It’s not fun.
