March 17, 2020
PASTOR,
Today, like yesterday, I was home all day.
So I'm sure, being an older brother yourself, your younger sister wanted to be included in everything you did. I'm also sure, as an older brother, you loved her very much but sometimes needed time to yourself with friends. I'm additionally sure that this difference in wills may have caused a mild abrasion between you. And sometimes, though you did everything right, you still came out on the bottom.
Sister has a space under the stairs that is recognized by the family as "her office." My equivalent area is the garage. When I have friends in the garage, and we are working on a project, discussing our stagnant but expectant love lives (she's GOTTA be out there somewhere, maybe my Tinder profile needs some more shots of my belly button washboard), or doing other "guy stuff," Sister often pokes her head or some other part of her anatomy through the door (a mild trespass) and asks to be included. There is nothing inherently bad about her primary actions, but after all, we are human (sometimes I wonder about her...) and the inherent nature of the flesh can bare itself upon receiving a gentle, caring, understanding negative answer. On occasion, she will enter the garage uninvited, and cause a stink. When I say stink, I am not referring to that natural function of the human physique which externally delights toddlers and internally delights your grandmother (though she would be mortified if she ever showed it).This stink, though verbal, will bring the attuned-nosy presence of Mother, who, though perfectly fair, often shows just and equivalent favoritism to my Sister. Quickly (not really) things are settled.
To some degree.
I've been reading my parent's old psychology books for kicks, and amidst diagnosing everyone I know (even the gal who ran the red light [Residual Encopresis, Colorblindness type A and Californianism]) I analyzed my relationship with my sister. The problem here isn't sibling rivalry, it's a difference in beliefs. My sister is a staunch Armenian, she claims that it's a free country and she can do whatever she (herself) pleases. I (myself) was elected to follow the 3 noble points on sibling interaction excreted by the self-made theologian John Calvin. He purports 1. That the elder sibling was preordained by the and should receive "benefits" (birthright, later bedtime, a double measure of everything [but that's just logic honestly, I weigh twice as much, I'm twice as old, I eat at least twice as much, I'm close to twice her height], and more allowance) without question. 2. That there is nothing we siblings can do to get along, it is out of my control, and 3. That she was predestined not to hang out with me today and that's immovable and ok.
This disagreement, though it does not affect our salvation, nevertheless frustrating. So let's change the subject (not like you have any control over it [oh yeep that's very Calvinist]).
Today I had the pleasure of tasting something so horrific it was almost as repulsive as my own medicine. After I finished vacuuming the car, Neighbor Boy came over munching. The objects of his mastications (had to take that one to court with autocorrect) were, I saw, to my delight, Graham Crackers.
~A Short History of Graham Crackers~
They were invented by some preacher dude in the 1800s to promote celibacy with their dry, flavorless taste (Guess Nabisco didn't get that memo)
*this has been*
~A Short History of Graham Crackers~
He offered me one, and I accepted, delighted to be able to partake of such a wholly unholy, unwholesome treat Mother would never buy. However, he offered me a word of warning. "They taste like marshmallows" (that was called a word with spaces) I bit into one and noticed immediately something was terribly wrong. The taste, I later realized, was identical to if a mouse had relieved itself on said Graham cracker. Upon a review of the expiration date on the box, we located the sole culprit of the unforgivable taste. These suckers had expired in DECEMBER 2018!
I washed out my mouth with dish soap.
My friend washed out his mouth with water. I'd been lucky enough not to swallow any, but he'd eaten two. Poor guy, it was too late to do anything. I'll find out tomorrow how he fared the night.
Speaking of which, it's getting late. I played videogames a lot today, tomorrow I am free from my grounding and will be gone like a bullet from (what do you think?) Come sunup.
I bid you sweet dreams, Pastor,
You know the drill,
Trevor
P.S. What do you call a car with no horse? Find out tomorrow.
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