I’m talking about how things going wrong seems to be contagious.
I have quite a big bedroom so I thought I’d just borrow the family air bed and put Nys in with me. I decided to head to my mum’s house with about 30 minutes to spare before Nyssa’s arrival. I went to the place where the bed is normally kept, and it was gone. I hunted around my sister’s bedroom looking everywhere, but it was nowhere to be found. Then I remembered that my sister had used it the week before, and it might have been in her car boot. At that point in time, my sister was chilling in Croatia. (A holiday I was meant to go on with her but that’s another story for another time).
I turned her room upside down looking for her car key in the hope that she hadn’t taken it with her. I whatsapped her for her to tell me where she keeps it but she said that my older brother (who wasn’t at home) had driven the car back and may still have it. I had already searched the hiding spot so I knew it must have been with J. I took deep breaths as my many phone calls went straight to his voicemail. I updated my sister on the situation and she told me where to look for her spare key. Spare key located, I found the air bed in the car boot. But without the air pump. I’ll admit that I’m usually full of hot air but even I couldn’t inflate the bed.
I ran back upstairs and searched high and low (again) and located the pump. Crisis averted!
As I went to lock my sister’s car, the windows started to go up and down as if possessed. There were only two buttons on her key, one that opened the boot and one that inspired the windows to party like it was 1999.
By this time, Nys was due at my house in approximately 10 minutes, and I was still 15 minutes drive away. 10 minutes if I suddenly became colour blind.
Then an angel appeared before me in the form of my brother. Not the one with the main key, my other brother who had returned home from a hard day’s work to be met with a hysterical younger sister. As I told him the story in one breath, he tried (unsuccessfully) to calm me down and took the car key from me. Of course, it locked with one press of the button. I could see his lips quivering as he stopped himself from asking me which button I had been pressing.
I barely had time to thank him as I threw the bed into my car and sped off like Louise Hamilton. The next day, I updated my other brother J (who returned home to find my sister’s car window still down, whoops!) on the events of the previous night. He unhelpfully advised me that I should have called him. It took all my strength to not beat him with my phone as I informed him through gritted teeth that his calls went straight to voicemail.
Like when I lose something and someone asks me where I last saw it. Or when I’m hungry and someone suggests that I should eat something. I’m not sure how they thought I’d made it to 27 years old if I didn’t know about eating. And they clearly don’t read my blogs or they’d know it’s my favourite past time. Or when you complain about your job and someone suggests that you get another one, as if we are not in a recession that’s lasted since I graduated 5 years ago (I did a placement year, before y'all start saying I had to repeat a year). Oh I’ll just wave my magic wand shall I?! If I had one then at least I could make you and your incessant questions disappear!
Another question I HATE is when people ask me if my twin brother and I are identical. Given that he is male and I am not, it would be impossible for that to be the case. Then they say ‘yeah I know but are you identical?’ If you’re asking me if I look like my brother, then the answer is still no. Unless you think I look like a boy and in that case, keep it moving buddy!
But what I hate more than that is when I ask someone a question, and I get an honest answer. Like, ‘do I look like I’ve put on weight?’ and they step back to assess. Firstly, there should be no pause or thought process involved in saying ‘girl, you so thin I didn’t even see you standing there!’ Instead I get: ‘hmmm…not really’. Not really is not the same as no. Or ‘you look fine!’. I don’t want to look ‘fine’ I want to look Fooooooine! The other day, my dad queried whether I still go to the gym. Given that I'm there for approx 2 hours 4-5 times a week, I would have hoped it showed. But my nephew gave me the harsh truth when I asked him why he always falls asleep on me 'you're so soft!' he innocently proclaimed as he shook my arms to play with my bingo wings.
I started to worry that my blogs weren’t as funny as they were at the start. I asked my friend, who replied ‘even if you don’t laugh out loud when reading it, it’s still an interesting read’. Which translated basically means, ‘how cute, you’re still blogging? Now that IS funny!'.
Someone else even asked me how the blog was going yesterday. Thanks for letting me know you've not been reading it, otherwise you would know!
Then you get the people who give you their opinion when you didn’t even ask for it. Someone told me that he had been reading my blogs, with some more humorous than the others. I don’t know what the purpose of this statement was but it succeeded in making me feel extremely pressured to make each blog as funny as the last. Not more, just equally as funny.
Since starting my blog, I have received quite a lot of feedback from readers. Some of which I didn't ask for :-p (I jest!). Every so often, someone messages me about something I have said that bothered them. I’d like to point out that this blog is designed for comical relief. For me, it’s therapeutic and for you, I hope it’s something silly to put a smile on your face. It’s another way to help us laugh at ourselves. If I don't take myself seriously, then you definitely shouldn't.
I suppose, given that I've decided to provide the internet with my many opinions that literally nobody asked me to share, I should be more tolerant of other people's. Shoulda woulda coulda suckers! If you want me to know what you think, put it on a blog that I won't read. Or prepare to find yourself the subject of one of mine, and you know its true because this hobby is fast becoming a rival to eating. Know that when the words rain, they pour!
I’m the Queen B(logger) mofos! And this is MY castle.
But on a serious and less maniacal note, we gotta learn not to sweat the small stuff. I was so stressed out that evening, despite the fact that I had a double bed that I could have easily shared with my friend. And a couch longer than my bed and probably more comfortable. Worst case scenario, she could have even slept in her car. Let's learn not to get so worked up over nothing so we can focus our energy on the things we enjoy.