My sister can’t spoon me when I’m sick, but at least she can make soup.
There’s nothing like being sick to make you miss having a man in your life. I am currently bed-bound with a terrible cold for the gazillionth time already this year (stupid pollen count).
I’m pretty sure my little sister would agree, as I have made her my substitute “boyfriend” and have been croaking orders at her since she arrived home from school. She is in the kitchen as we speak making me soup.
My stepfather, in typical fashion for a president of a non-profit organization that provides aid to starving African children, felt the need to remind me that slavery was abolished over a century ago, I am not Scarlett O’Hara, and this is not the Deep South.
I reminded him that as a child enrolled in the germ-infested public school system, she was probably to blame for my near-death causing illness in the first place. He went back to watching basketball.
