My sister just locked me in my room.
Ok, she didn’t LOCK me in my room. She shut my bedroom door on me as I was industriously making my bed (which I hadn’t done in about a week).
The locking was implicitly implied.
It was explicitly stated when I promptly opened the door and walked into the hall.
“ALI,” Mackenzie said with her trademark calm and tender manner, “THAT WAS A SIGN TO STAY IN YOUR ROOM.”
With my trademark pluck and valor, I immediately turned tail and closed myself in my room.
You may be wondering what grievous crime I had committed to deserve banishment to my room.
Well, my little sister had a boy coming over. And she didn’t want me to meet him.
“Why don’t you want me to meet your boy?” I asked as we discussed this yesterday.
“You’re too weird and awkward,” she threw back at me, beating a retreat into her room so I couldn’t ask follow-up questions. And I had a lot of questions
I’m not sure what she meant by “too weird and awkward.” Granted, I have spent the majority of Christmas break slouching around in my XXXL “I support the right to arm bears” t-shirt (I’m a size small, if anyone was wondering). And the only person outside of my immediate family I’ve interacted with is the man who delivers the books I order.
I was so upset I almost didn’t invite her to help me and our cousin Brittney build our Christmas-themed blanket fort.
I made the best of being “locked” in my room, which, thankfully, overlooks the front yard.
“MACKENZIE. HE’S PARKED AT THE END OF THE DRIVEWAY.”
“What are you yelling about?”
“YOUR BOY IS IN THE DRIVEWAY, BUT HE ISN’T DRIVING UP.”
“He texted me to ask if he should park in the street…What are you doing?”
And that’s when she opened my door to find me peeking through the slitted window blinds.
“You’re the creepiest person ever,” she said, shutting my door for the second time.
I didn’t reply because I was sending the Snapchat video of him walking up the driveway to our family group message. (You couldn’t really see him though, because of the palmettos.)
I can say with certainty that if she had been born in the right time period, my sister is the type of person who would’ve stuck me in a stone tower and used my hair as an elevator.
Does that make me the sweet, innocent princess?
You can draw the comparisons.
Except the closest thing I have to prince is the Amazon delivery man.
Life isn’t like the fairytales, kids.
If it was a fairytale, we would fall in love at first sight and expeditiously ride into the sunset in our gilded carriage. Sure, we may have to elude a murderous stepmother or disgruntled witch, but we could blithely skip over the harrowing experience of bringing our significant other to family game night.
That’s the true test of love. Any guy in his right mind would rather battle a fire-breathing dragon than duke it out at Renckens Family Game Night.
But we can’t lock our relatives away forever just because they’re weird or awkward or wear shirts five sizes too big with baffling political messages or give us a sharp kick in the shin during an intense game of Uno…right?
Oh well. If I actually was in a tower, I could probably get a better video.
And with drone delivery, life wouldn’t be half bad.
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