10:20 a.m. - December 24, 2003
Ah, what would one do without family? Live happily, prosper, enjoy the quietness of a home?
Rain pouring down and that means everybody, except for my brother and his guest (girlfriend? friend-with-benefits?), is holed up. I, too, am holed up with my door shut and locked. It is 10:21 and I've had enough of family already.
Snippets:
At least now you have couches. I worried you'd make me sit on the floor like the last time I was here. You need to sweep. (Mother)
I can't talk to Ryan because you have terrible Cingular reception here. Get off the internet so I can use the other line. (Sister)
You're out of cereal. (Mom's partner)
Do I have Ruffles? Why don't I have enough towels? No fabric softener? Different kind of shampoo? The new light fixture looks great, did I do it myself? (yes!) Do I have any games? Why am I hiding in my room? Can we borrow your car even though it's an SUV and are you still a Republican by the way? The house is too cold, do you mind if I turn up the heat?
All minor, what-do-you-expect-from-houseguests, family commentary. Work-able seepastit bits and pieces. Things can only improve after this:
I bought you a shirt for Christmas. It won't fit. How much have you gained?
