Celebrated Devious Behavior....

Some memories we recall with sweet favor…others come with great embarrassment.  Then there are those recollections we celebrate with ecstatic justification.  I have one such memory—O yes, there are more, but I give out such confidences one at a time….

I once had a sister-in-law—I’ll call her Lizzie (i.e. Lizzie Borden—though I’m not suggesting she did any hatching physically.  In her case, it was purely verbal).  She is the sister of my ex whom I shall call Wickham (assuming you are familiar with Pride and Prejudice).  I enjoyed Lizzie’s visits for the first five minutes—after that, I counted the minutes until her departure.  To put it bluntly, she was a pain in the arse. 

One day out of the blue, she called to say she was headed our way. When she arrived, she held out a TO DO list for her brother—little problems that needed to be worked out on the fifth-wheel she’d just purchased.

As Wickham began his work toward completion of said list, his sister stood inches away yelling in that loud, grating voice we’d come to detest, You don’t do it that way!  Why don’t you listen to me?…  You are just like your father….(which, of course, happened to be hers as well).  These criticisms/demands/bitchings I’d heard on every visit!

Since she had put no time limit on her visit, I started each morning with fantasies of how I would suddenly get measles or typhoid or something equally contagious that put me in quarantine so I wouldn’t have to face her, or listen to these two adult children in full battle gear.

One morning, about the fourth day of her stay she came to the patio door to see if she could use the downstairs bathroom for her shower to save her RV water supply.

  “Sure,” I said.

Within seconds, she returned to the kitchen to ask for a rag and cleanser.  “What do you need them for?” I asked. 

“To clean the bathroom,” she replied.

My stomach began to churn.  “Before or after you shower?”

“Before,” was her unhesitant response.  I quickly handed over the cleaning supplies while looking for a rag long enough to wrap around her neck!  I’d cleaned the bathroom thank-you-very-much before she’d arrived! 

She went back to the bathroom, taking the supplies with her.   Meanwhile I stayed in the kitchen fuming!!  Why is it my creative thinking tends to butt up again illegal and violent activities?  Here I was playing her emotional tennis game.  She hit the ball and I scurried around the court after it.  But this time I would lob the ball back and send it down her throat!! 

I continued to prepare lunch--tossing the salad and throwing the meal together.  As I began setting the table, my plan came to life.  She had informed us, upon her arrival, that she’d invited extended family members to our home that weekend for a reunion—all this without asking us.  Although I wasn’t happy about her plans, I also knew that no one would show—her relationship with other family members was not any better than with us. 

As I set the plates on the table, I knew it would be just the three of us.  I took the plates out of the cupboard.  I put one in Wickham’s place, one in my place, and with only hers left in my hands I slowly took the plate to my lips and licked it thoroughly.  Then with a smile, I set it at her place.

After Lizzie finished her shower, I told her to come back in when she was ready for lunch.  When we sat down to eat, Wickham asked us to bow our heads.  As he quietly offered the blessing, I sat reverently, and smiled knowingly—I surely felt honored by the gods as I celebrated with ecstatic justification!