So I'm in my bathroom, playing the long game...
...reading a book and waiting for nature and gravity to do their duty, when I hear the vacuum.
First far away, then getting closer. It's in the hallway. A minute of that and then, like a single insistent cop-knock, it bumps hard against my bedroom door. The door must have been ajar, because the roar of the vacuum was instantly twice -- no -- three times as loud. It's in my room. She's in my room. I swore to myself, "Goddamit! She's doing that 'I might as well vacuum your threshold because obviously you're not going to do it and maybe you'll take the hint and finish the job yourself.'" But it doesn't stop. It doesn't go away. I hear it, the back-and-forth, again and again. She must be next to my closet now. Oh god, my guitars! If she knocks one over, well -- I don't know what I'll do. But it'll be pretty bad, I can tell you that. The far side of the bed would be next. Yes. Nearer, but slightly muffled. After that, there's only the strip of floor between the bed and the bathroom. Here she comes. Louder and louder, then "boom boom boom" against the bathroom door. A quick retreat, and she's gone.
So now I'm mad. I'm going to finish my business and then march across the now mercifully quiet house and by god give her a piece of my mind.
There she sits, middle of the sofa, legs crossed, arms spread along the back of the couch, looking like the martyr I know she thinks she is. I walk right up to her and I say it:
"Hey, Sis! Thanks for vacuuming my room! It really needed it and I was dreading doing it myself."
I mean really. She cleaned my room. That's awesome!
(But for a minute there...)
= new reply since forum marked as read
Super short story!
I, too, am a coward at confrontation...
