Tonight as I was putting away groceries in the pantry, I knocked the open box of Coke by accident and cans of soda went flying to the tile floor. One of them exploded. I had soda all over every damn thing, including my self. It was pooled in my cute little black flat shoes and dripping from my skirt (I never changed out of work clothes); it splashed all over my painting supplies, the walls, and pretty much everything on the lower shelves of my pantry.
It sucked. I spent well over half an hour on the clean-up effort. I hope I got everything, because nothing is worse than that horrible spilled-soda stickiness. Plus, I bet that bugs are drawn to the sweetness. I imagine wasps and hornets would love to be hanging out in a puddle of spilled soda. So, because I do not want wasps and hornets setting up shop in my home, I went to extraordinary measures to clean up.
Now, I am over an hour removed from the incident, and I feel a lot better. Everything is clean; the floor has been mopped with my Swiffer wet-jet (which was so handy tonight, especially since my normal mopping-bucket was a victim of the soda explosion, and I had to throw it in the sink to wash it) and I’m all showered and clean. I don’t normally take showers at bedtime, because of Wet Head In the Bed(TM) Syndrome. I shower in the morning, pretty much always. But I have to say that I feel so nice and mellow now that I’m showered tonight. I think a bedtime shower (or bath) is one of those things in life that are just perfectly pleasant. It’s awesome to smell like soap as you drift off to sleep for some reason.
My title is a shout-out to my girls, the Andrews Sisters. Just this morning, I had this song blasting in my car on the drive in to work. I’m not sure, but it’s probably a kind of racist song. Talking about the girls in Trinidad making the “Yankee” tourists happy so they can earn “the Yankee dollah”… are they prostitutes? I don’t know.
All I know is I like the song very much anyway, and could listen to the Andrews Sisters pretty much any day of the damn week and smile. Sometimes I think of my sister when I hear their songs. I recall her giving me several Andrews Sisters songs over the years. And I wonder if she and I could ever be a singing group. We have decent voices. I think. Well, no… I am not sure about this.
But we sure do love to sing really loud in the car. Sometimes, we sing with such unrestrained power and glee that we will, oh, I don’t know… drive two hours out of the way on a road trip to Vegas. Our singing and jubilant car-dancing makes us do things like miss exits and not notice for two hours. Yeah. It happens. Maybe we should NOT be a singing group.
We need a third sister. Or a little brother. I think we could have a gay brother and be very content with that. We could all sing show tunes and have ice cream at 9pm on the weeknights…together. The point is, we need a third. We are such good friends and have so much fun, just the two of us, we can’t imagine the coolness that a THIRD would bring to the picture. Holy cow. It would be incredible.
I’m pretty certain, however, that the reason there is no third-of-us is because my sister and I probably drove our parents a little insane with our incessant chattering and laughing and nonsense. I think of us on family vacations, and how one or both of our parents would put up with us never shutting up for an hour, possibly two, but there would ALWAYS come a point where we’d hear the words, “All right, all right… ” followed by a long, annoyed sigh. Or, we would hear: “If you knew your times tables as well as you can quote these stupid movies…!” That statement never got finished. They just wanted to point out that me and my sister sat around quoting movies way, way, WAY too much. I’m amazed we didn’t get left at a rest stop during any of those trips.
We used to do this thing almost every night, too, where we would sneak into one another’s rooms after bedtime and continue talking and laughing. Seriously, you’d think we would get it all out in the daylight hours and at the dinner table and after dinner, etc… nope. We needed to keep up our shenanigans well into the lights-out hours as well.
So, the same thing would happen almost every night. I would be in my sister’s room, whispering and trying to be quiet as we laughed about some ridiculous thing, and we would hear our mother purposely stomping hard as she came up the steps.
She would say in her best threatening-mom voice, “I thought I told you to GO TO SLEEP!” as she ascended the stairs, and I would run back across the hall and jump quietly into bed, pull the sheets up and pretend to be asleep.
Like she would actually believe that. Yet, I did it anyway. She would appear in the doorway, looking pissed, saying something about “enough is enough” and I would groggily lift my head from the pillow and say, “Whaaaat?” like she had just woken me up.
Meanwhile, across the hall, my sister would be doing the same thing. Pretending to be asleep, but probably hiding her face because she was giggling still. Mom would yell at us, and go back downstairs to finish watching TV with my Dad. We would be quiet and still for a few minutes, until we were sure she was gone…
…and then one of us would burst out with that snorty-laugh you do when you are trying to be quiet; because getting yelled at was funny. Of course. (Getting hit was even funnier. If my sister got smacked on the arm for doing something stupid, I would have to run away and hide because I was laughing so hard. If my smacking-parent saw me, he or she would say, “Oh, you think this is funny? I’ll give you something to laugh about!” which was, of course, ALSO funny, because they said the same thing every time.)
We would also put on shows ad nauseum. Dance shows, usually. We liked to do “Christmas Spectacular” shows in the living room every year, because we got to see the Radio City Music Hall show one year and it made quite the impression on us. We did lip sync routines for years. I mean, well into college, for me. We would also do water shows out in the pool with friends, and one time I ‘wrote’ a play about a little girl losing her tooth and the tooth fairy doesn’s show up (or something… sister, if you remember the plot, let me know) and performed it in the kitchen for our weary parents. In that instance, I recall my father heckling us. He was teasing us as we tried to act. I was so mad. In retrospect, I totally wish we had a video camera back then and they’d filmed it so we could laugh at how mad I got. I think I stopped the play and yelled at him.
So, mostly, we were constant chatterboxes in the house. We fought sometimes, when we were little, but nothing really too bad. Today, we are in our thirties (OMG) and we STILL never shut up when we’re together. I think we annoy people. Brother-in-law fits right in with us, which is great. He also never shuts up when we’re all together! In fact, he and I will launch off into our own little joke scenarios if my sister is busy talking to someone else (usually my poor Mom) and when my sister comes back to the conversation, inevitably BIL and I are laughing really, really hard and doing something stupid like a weird dance or gesture that means nothing to her, and she’ll laugh and pretend to be confused by us. In fact, she likes that we do that. I do, too.
Because in a lot of ways, BIL is the third sibling. How cool is that? I feel really lucky that I am friends with my BIL like that. And that the three of us can hang out, go to a movie, whatever, and have an awesome time, every time. I never get that “third wheel” sense just because they’re married. It’s just three morons, laughing and being assholes everywhere they go. And I love that.
Maybe…just maybe… one day we can get a fourth sibling. Maybe I will find my match and he will add to the chatter and laughter. If you know any supremely-goofy guys, you gotta let me know.
I’m going to shut up now. It’s bed time. I do wish my sister had the internet at her new house already, because we could be doing the equivalent of that whispering-after-we-should-be-asleep thing through e-mail and Facebook right now.
We are never, ever going to change. Thank God.