Then we talked about wall colors and she keeps insisting I should paint my room.
My sister thinks the whole downstairs, with vaulted ceiling and a huge amount of faded sagey green and muted mustard colors should be "light yellow".
This is yet another reason why my sister may very well be adopted. All of us have a more artistic eye... like... what colors look good together, balance and space and floor plans. While we may not always have the opportunity to implement these things, we're all pretty good at not making our homes hideous.
Hell, Stephen actually just lined the walls and ceiling of a room in his basement with BRIGHT RED carpet. But it's the room with huge tv and the WHITE leather sofas. It's his little swanky movie room and ya know what? It looks good.
But my sister, it seems, was not born with that gene.
That's okay. She understands accounting and wants to be an advocate for patients in need of help sorting out and understanding their medical bills, so she's got it over us in some ways.
None of us are exactly "math people" nor "bureacracy people" and she's savant-like in those areas.
I made a mess this morning, got really pissed off about it all and turned into my father for about 30 seconds before I shamed myself out of it and calmed the hell down. I hate it when that happens. Slamming things down, throwing things out of my way, wanting to hit walls with my hands or my head...
It doesn't happen often anymore, but when it does I just feel like the most reactionary, inane, backward, pissy, 5 year old idiot on earth. Temper tantrum is the only way to explain it and I don't know if I (and my siblings) inherited it genetically or if we learned it, but we've all evolved out of it to a huge extent. I know that I'm not my father. But sometimes when I catch myself doing something that's "him" it really gets to me.
But it's all okey dokey. Coffee was made, no one was killed, nothing was broken. ::Nods::