Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Hearts and coffee, but not for you

Whatever, I don't even like oatmeal. Or coffee. Or fridges. 

This note was written from one sister to the other. Apparently there was oatmeal and coffee to be had. But not for the rest of us. 

I know, tiny violins are playing everywhere. But consider a couple of extra facts:

1. When the sisters host their parents, the parents cook a ton of food and offer it to the rest of us. I'm not sure who actually raised the sisters, but their parents are regular people who say good morning and ask questions. When they visited over Christmas, they left a ham they cooked for all of us. By the time I returned to the Asylum, all I saw of the ham was two slices that had been portioned out in a Ziploc bag and placed on my shelf. A similar bag was on Norm's shelf. The rest of the 7lb. ham was on the sisters' shelves. 

Last time the parents were here, the mom told me I would "have to have one of these blueberry muffins." That I never saw again. 

2. For my birthday that no one at home remembered, the sisters belatedly gave me a fruit tart under the guise of a birthday treat. There were actually two that they had clearly bought for themselves. They kept the other one hidden so I wouldn't see it and ate it after I left the room.

Is it whiny that I feel left out of cold oatmeal and coffee? Yes.

Does anyone have to give me any food that isn't mine? No.

But would I write a Post-It inviting one person to share my food and never anyone else? No.

Everyone is welcome to my butter and trail mix. 

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