He and I grew up together, turning to each other when we needed someone to play with, because we lived out in the country and there weren't any other options except the cows in the fields behind our house. Since we both decided that a sibling was better than a cow, we've always been close. Now that I go to the same college as he does, we're living together in a little house here in town.
Living with me can't be very easy. For instance,
- I am female, and that means that on one day each month, I feel crampy and yucky. Even worse: if this coincides with some other cataclysmic event, like a hot day, I get extra cranky.
- As mentioned in the previous post, I can't keep a bedroom clean for anything. I don't always keep other rooms clean as I go either, so there are days when Jamie comes home to my school stuff tossed carelessly on the couch and other random bits of my life strewn all over the living room.
- It's my job to do the dishes, so sometimes it comes time to eat and we meander into the kitchen to see a full counter and an empty cabinet. Oh, the shame.
As if that isn't enough, I know that I always let Jamie see my worst side. That's easy to do with family members because they've known you all your life, and you know they can't just stop being your family even if you make them mad. When I have something that bothers me just enough for me to complain about but not enough for me to try changing it, I end up talking to Jamie about it. Goodness knows he's suffered through enough car rides of my nonstop chattering. Poor bloke.
He has to deal with my crazy lack of a plan every time I go out with friends, my bad housemate tendencies, and my persistent habit of going to him with life complaints whenever I need someone to vent to.
What I'm trying to say is:
Now someone please get this boy that country I promised him.