That’s what my sister’s e-mail ended with when I found it in my inbox this morning. (No, not mug sister, and not “My 6 year old is a dictator in the making” sister either.) I don’t think I’ve ever written about this sister before. We shall call her, “Decorating Sister Who Lives Far Away.”
She was responding to a previous e-mail from Mug Sister about how Mug Sister had redone 1 of her 3 living rooms in pale blue accents rather than red. (Mug Sister has some money… thus the reason she has 3 living rooms.) Mug Sister had sent all the sisters pictures of her new blue accents in order to garner some approval and feel better about herself. (She lives with 3 men. Men don’t care about decorating. They probably didn’t even notice the new colors.)
Mug Sister’s new blue accents were lovely and I told her so. However, I left out the part about being jealous that she has 3 living rooms to decorate, a perfect husband, 2 perfect children, a perfect dog and a perfect little house in the suburbs complete with a perfect backyard firepit and grilling area. (Losing pretty much everything after a divorce at the age of 31 makes you hyper-aware of everything you suddenly don’t have and everything everyone else still has, and it’s occasionally a struggle to not become bitter. I’m not bitter. I just hate people with perfect lives. Mug Sister not included.)
Decorating Sister Who Lives Far Away finally got around to responding to the pictures, (which, in itself is a feat, seeing as she seems incapable of answering phone calls and/or texts or responding to any type of communication in a reasonably timely manner. She actually sent my 30th birthday present to me on my 31st birthday, because it took her a year to get to the post office. And no, I’m not making that up. Why would someone make that up? Who would even believe that?) and ooh-ed and aah-ed over the new blue hues (see what I did there?) and then told us all about how she was redecorating her office with butcher block countertops from IKEA and how much she loves decorating and we should too. (Decorating Sister Who Lives Far Away is well on her way to establishing her perfect life, thus giving Mug Sister a perfect run for her perfect money.)
And then I look around the bedroom I once shared with Decorating Sister Who Lives Far Away which I have lived in since 1983 (give or take a few years for college and marriage… I guess “There’s No Place Like Home” should be my new life motto???) complete with 2 twin beds, a pile of stuffed animals, an ugly-ass, dysfunctional floor lamp and a Rubik’s Cube, and I think…
I really don’t want to hate my perfect sister’s and their perfect lives because I know their lives aren’t perfect and they truly are wonderful sisters (most of the time… the Great Sibling Debacle of 2008 not-with-standing) and I don’t want to become a bitter old maid. But sometimes, it’s really, REALLY hard not to and some days (like today… or any day on my period… which we really need to talk about, by the way, because it just seems kinda mean that you let women go through this on a monthly basis because it SUUUUUCKS) I really don’t feel like pulling myself up by my bootstraps and plowing ahead because it’s not fair that I should have to because my life was fine the way it was. And some days I just want people to know how good they have it, and okay… maybe I want them to have to experience even an nth of the crap I’ve gone through, but I would never wish that on anyone and I know that’s a horrible thing to think and I’m really sorry I did, but just… REALLY?!
Love n’ kisses,
And yes, I know I could redecorate and make this place my own but then that just means I’m resigning myself to the fact that I might be here long-term, and quite frankly, I don’t know if I have the money or the energy to go through all of that. I’d rather curl up in the fetal position and feel sorry for myself. It seems much more productive and less costly.
So, if you’re keeping score, this is how things are shaking out… Perfect Sisters: 1, Annie: -3,542
So, that’s how my week is starting. How’s yours so far?