“So, do you want your room back?” Was the first question my Mom asked me upon finding out I was moving back home to Sparks, Nevada due to Pacific closures.
When I had left for college, the never-ending fighting of my two younger sisters brought my mom to her breaking point— my bedroom was collateral damage. A month into my freshman year, I got the dreaded phone call asking if the eldest of the two could take my bedroom so that they would have their own space. When I obliged, my mom released her held breath saying, “Good, because I already moved all of her stuff.”
Just like that it was done, and moving back home for the remainder of the semester meant it was time to face this fact. When my Mom had asked me if I’d like my room back, I just imagined the terrifying capabilities of a spiteful 12-year-old. It was enough to turn down the offer. I figured instead I’d earn my sister’s respect and let her keep my room— you can go ahead and award me Best Brother of the Year.
And where does the Best Brother of the Year sleep now, you ask? I’m officially roomies with my youngest sister: an eight year old who still can’t clean her room. Oh, and did I mention we’re bunk-mates?
My youngest sister was thrilled about this of course. You know I didn’t think it’d be too bad either. That was until I had to walk across the seascape of toys to get into bed that first night; my feet still shudder at the thought.
It has been interesting to say the least. For example, yesterday I came home to the “Room Rules” written on our closet door in whiteboard marker: “1. No fiting [sic]; 2. Blieve [sic] in yourself; 3. Clean your side.” Last week she snuck a fake worm in my plant, claiming there was a centipede in it. She also has an endless amount of fake $20 bills that look so realistic my heart jumps a beat when I find one waiting for me on my bed.
Embarrassingly, a couple weeks ago she convinced me to rent her an rated R movie, Good Boys. She promised me with all her might that she had permission from our parents, and that it was appropriate. I hadn’t seen any trailers, and I mean the movie is called Good Boys so how bad could it get? I don’t know if you’ve seen that movie, but I’m ashamed to say she now has!
But besides the fact that I have had to deep clean our room countless times since coming home, she actually doesn’t make too bad of a roommate. We’ll have movie nights or she’ll kick my butt at Uno. Sometimes she’ll lean down from her top bunk to do our super secret handshake. Yesterday when I got home, she had turned on our air diffuser for me, and when asked what oil scent she chose she said, “Happiness! We all need some of that right now.”
So I guess that even though it’s been a crazy month waking up every morning to the blaring Victorious soundtrack, or finding slime around the room, or fighting about who’s responsible for cleaning which side… it hasn’t been all bad.
But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I can’t wait to move out so we can go back to just being best friends and not roomies. Roomies might be pushing it.