Once upon a time, I went to IKEA with V and got a new lamp. The lamp was a welcome addition to my room. It made it seem more lived in; it added to the clutter. It made me happy because my room felt more homey, and all of a sudden, I wanted to spend a whole lot more time here.
This is a slight shame because the weather is gorgeous and I'm positive my time would be better spent sunning myself in the backyard or cruising down the highway to an undetermined location. Unfortunately, I'm the only person I know who has Mondays off that I'd like to hang out with, and driving aimlessly by yourself seems doubly aimless. I already know everything about myself you could potentially learn about another being on a road trip. I know how often I have to go pee, I know the songs I sing when I'm bored, and I know the timbre of my whine when I'm tired.
I can't wait for my sister to finish school so I can just hang out with her all the time.
My sister is hilarious. She dons the most amazing accents and tells the most pointless jokes. She's as sharp as a tack - she doesn't let things slide, and she has a penchant for bringing things full circle. She gets my obscure references and she milks inside jokes. She has this look she gives you when you've said something dumb: but it's not judgemental, it's more fascinated, like, "I can't believe how stupid you are. You're my hero." She makes the funniest faces and talks in the funniest voices, and she dances like a moron.
I love her to death.
I could drive to the other side of the world with her, and back, and we'd get on each other's nerves, and we'd clash, and we'd fight, but we'd probably have the time of our lives, too. I can be me around my sister, no holds barred, no impression management required - and she loves me for me, like I love her for her. I wouldn't trade that in for the world.