Sister returned home yesterday from her class excursion to the Capital. The very first thing out of her mouth as she opened the door was a heavy, exasperated sigh; I knew that life would immediately go back to normal (joy). Apparently, she was (as predicted) pissed that the futon had been moved out of her room (we put it in the garage so that Brother would at last have a bed and get to it at a decent hour—Milo’s going to force him, haha).
Every story she has told so far has in some way involved “d— black people”. One of the first words I heard out of her mouth was the ‘N’ word. And then she said, “But these other two black girls who were whitewash were pretty cool.” And ohh, that pissed me off. I think that term probably pisses me off more than does the ‘N’ word. I really wanted to say to her, “Look, dumbass, I’m so sorry your side lost the Civil War, but quit griping about it already!” I think next time I shall.
Naturally, she was going on and on about it all night; Milo and I exchanged glances, half amused and half disgusted by her utter stupidity and annoying-ness, and said nothing.
And then this morning, I was in my room and heard her bitching about something, but couldn’t quite make out what it was because it was in this low-pitched, whiny voice, instead of a high one. And then I heard my mom say, “That is not true; Milo does plenty to help out around the house! A lot more than you do!” And she went on to list things, which sort of silenced Psychobrat, which is good, because I would have immediately sprung out of my room to come to his defense.
My dad backs her up on this issue, too. Simply because whenever there are loads of crap all over the house, and Milo is the one to move them out of the way, my dad complains that he doesn’t know where any of his stuff is anymore, that somebody who isn’t even a part of this family keeps moving it—so stop leaving it in the way! Milo doesn’t want a filthy house anymore than any of the rest of us, and I would think that certain people could appreciate some of what he does around here like the rest of us, instead of just bitching all the time.
So then she started in on me, and how she does more around the house than I do, or Brother, for that matter, and all this other crap that I couldn’t really make out, but I know I distinctly heard, “I do more than either one of them!”
Ironically enough, just a few minutes before, I had been sitting in the kitchen, when my mom asked me to unload the dishwasher. I said okay, and then she said loudly, “Sister…do you want to unload the dishwasher?”
Sister screeched back, “NO! Why should I have to do it!? I haven’t been home for a week!”
I smiled pleasantly and said, “Don’t worry; I can do it.” My mom smiled back.
So, while the whole bitch-fest was going on, my mom informed her that I was the one who had unloaded (and re-loaded) the dishwasher that morning, to which Psychobrat responded, “Well, she should have to do it! She’s been home all week!!”
My mom informed her that I don’t even eat off of the dishes, seeing as how I don’t eat any breakfast, I have a sandwich each day for lunch (on a paper plate), and I eat dinner at work.
Psychobrat said, “Well, good for her! She’s part of this family, too!”
My mom said, “Yes, and as a part of this family, she helps keep this house clean!”
Psychobrat again said, “I do more than she does!”
There were some things said in undertone, and then Psychobrat started bitching that I have not yet moved out of the house. My mom said, “She is at home working and going to college! It’s not like she’s a bum!”
Psychobrat said, “I’m going to move out as soon as I’m old enough!”
My mom said, “It may not be as easy as you think.”
I thought about going out and making a sarcastic remark about how easy it would be for me to move out today, with the pittance I get each month after my car payment, but I didn’t care enough. What is the point of wasting my breath on her?
Then my cell phone rang, so I was finally able to tune everything out.
Welcome home, Psychobrat.