Yesterday was pretty much the usual Thanksgiving. My sister started it out with her second annual Watch-A-Whole-Season-of-Friends-on-DVD-in-One-Day event, this time with the eighth season of Friends on DVD. I joined her for a little while for the first disc. She now only has about two episodes left until she finishes the entire season. Unfortunately, she did not beat last year’s record in which she finished the entire fifth season at around 9pm.
At around noon, a woman came over with her daughter to drop off the pies we had ordered. This woman has been over a few times before since I am working on her business’ website. Her daughter had been over once before, as well. Now, it’s not that my sister and I HATE little children. They’re fine. At least when they’re strapped to a chair with candy stuffed in their mouths in front of a television. Then they’re quite sweet and adorable. Otherwise, though, at least when it comes to visiting our house in particular, they become nasty little tagalong demons who want to touch EVERYTHING.
When I heard my mother downstairs TELLING the little girl downstairs to go upstairs and BOTHER US, I immediately ran into my sister’s room since my room has no door. I informed her that the little girl was heading up the stairs and she jumped to the door to help me lean against it. The little girl was at the doorknob. Turning it. Turning it. It was horrifying. My sister shouted something along the lines of, “Um, could you go away? I’m changing!” The little girl went away. Or so we thought.
My sister left the room while I stayed hidden behind the open door. I closed the door again, just in case. In a few moments, I opened the door a crack to see what was going on. AAAAAAGH! I jumped a little. The little girl was standing RIGHT THERE with her head in the door crack with an evil little smirk on her face. I shut the door quickly. Sadly, my sister was still out there. I had to help her. I shouted, “Ana! Could you help me in here?”
I heard my sister outside the room saying, “I need to go in there, my brother needs help…. with something.” This didn’t seem to make the little girl go away, so I started making gagging noises from inside the room. “My brother’s throwing up,” my sister said to the little girl. She finally went away, but I think I heard her downstairs telling everybody that I was vomiting. Great. Now people probably think I bulimic.