My Sister Should Be a Storyteller

For two evenings now, before the light has gone out in the room of my sister and myself, the heavens have shaken and the gale winds have blown. We fought. They were really more like spats. The first crossing of powers was the night before last. I wanted to spread the blankets out evenly and asked for her help. She had already lay down and was warm and comfortable. She felt that she could easily assist me from her reclining position and I felt that she would be more help if she got up out of bed. We both admitted afterwards that it was a petty thing to fight about. I would like to say that hormonal spikes can do that to a young lady, but I really could have made the bed quite easily on my own and not upset the both of us.

Last night's tango was not as long, but I believe that it was a little more heated. She was ready to lie down and get as much sleep as she could (not a nice, full eight hours even) before having to get up, shower, and get to school this morning. She had already brushed her teeth and made herself ready for turning in. I turned on the small lamp and headed for the door. She promptly reached over and turned OFF the small lamp. (Again, I would like to add the "hormonal spike" disclaimer to the following skirmish, but if I had just kept on and gone to the bathroom to brush my teeth, any unpleasantness could have been avoided, but...) I stopped right where I was, turned to face her (which was silly since we were now in the dark), and told her to turn the lamp back on. She asked why. For some reason this really started to make me hot under the collar, and it was probably only 65 degrees in that room. I told her that I was just going to wash my face and brush my teeth and then I too would be ready to go to bed, but I would like the lamp on to get back to the bed. "I can make it to the bed just fine without the lamp on," she replied, or something along those lines.

We were not amused with her poorly veiled accusations that we were being "High and Mighty" that we could not make it to our side of the bed without the lamp to guide our every dainty footstep. You see the blatant finger-pointing, don't you? Well, we quickly pointed out the boxes, stuffed animals, and other harmful debris awaiting our approach, plotting our demise. "And," we pointed out,"those are not [our] stuffed animals or [our] boxes that are littered about haphazardly, just begging [us] to break something!" Being as wise as we are, we should have known that words spoken in heated haste are often greatly mistaken. Some of those boxes, most of them, really were ours, mine. Sister pointed this fact out and I just told her to keep the lamp on because, "I said so." This also led to the accusation that I was being bossy all night. Sister has a knack for telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I had told her to stop yelling earlier, I told her to go rinse her teeth, and I was now telling her to keep the lamp on just because I said so, even though she needed to get some sleep. With my true nature laid bare in the dim, dusky light from the lamp, I skulked off to the bathroom to brush my teeth, wash my face, and drown my pride as much as I could.

I think that Sister is absolutely right. I need more soy.