Which sounds better, hypocritical agnostic, or agnostic hypocrite?

I wish you could have come to church with me this morning.  (I know.)  The priests at this church are so darn good.  The best line from this morning's homily was "Jesus never loses his peripheral vision."  Nice one.

It was the story of the dude with the dying daughter, and Jesus came to help out.  On the walk there, an outcast of a woman grabbed at his clothes because she wanted to be healed.  Jesus stopped, healed her, spoke with her, then went and performed his miracle on the daughter.

Part of the focus of the homily, though, was the juxtaposition between the father - probably a well known guy in town - and this woman, who had been sick and shunned for over a decade.  The priest compared her to the woman under the overpass, unseen by so many, who lives on the curb.  The priest said that this story isn't about those people, though; it's about Jesus (as the Gospel stories usually are.  Snort.)  The father, who is used to being seen, had to wait while Jesus spoke to this unknown woman.  The father was noted in the gospel by name.  The woman was nameless.  But Jesus sees everyone, said the priest.  He never loses his peripheral vision.

And the homily continued with a focus on how we should follow that lead.  How grace and happiness comes to us through serving, showing kindness to others, etc.  And this is why I love this place.  Just because I'm agnostic doesn't mean I can't take lessons away from the Bible.  ALSO - oh jeez I almost forgot about this - he talked about seeing God's grace in others, etc., and said we can't ignore or push away others... and he specifically mentioned Muslims, illegal aliens, and our enemies.  We have to seek God's love in and through them.

I love this.  I'm not exactly "seeking God's love," but I'm seeking humanity.  Commonalities.  Grace, too.  Everybody has it, but with some folks you have to dig more.  I know, I'm throwing up a little bit, too, but these are my feelings.

There's this bit in The Preacher's Wife where they talk about coming to church to fill up every week.  As if we have a gas tank where we need to replenish our resources in order to do good, see good, remember what's good, etc.  This is what church should be, and what it never was for me growing up.  After I grew up (snort again), moved out one my own, etc., I found that going to my parents' house and Grandma's house did this for me.  It became my guiding church, refilling me on remembering life's real priorities.

And what I posted the other night about my new friend - that wasn't just a refill.  That was a major overflow.  It was amazing.

This morning was a lovely refill.

Rejuvinating

I don't want to forget anything about this past weekend because it was so damn revitalizing.  I went to DC.  I had some cool stuff happen that was work-related, but I want to focus on the more personal stuff first.

Friday night I saw The Normal Heart, written by Larry Kramer.  You should look him up.  The play was beyond moving, and I was affected.  I'm still thinking about it and how it is changing how I spend my time and how I approach certain life issues.  I'm a better person for having seen it.  Really.

My darling Kurt brought me backstage and introduced me to some cast and crew members.  I found myself utterly star struck upon meeting Patrick Breen, and acted quite the fool gushing over him.  No regrets there.  He was splendid.

Another cast member met was Jon - a sweet and brief encounter.  I was informed that Jon is the kindest of the cast, and I soon learned this firsthand.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Saturday was brunch with a dear old friend in Dupont, then a stint in the American History Museum (where I learned more about gay rights in history), and back to the theater for The Music Man.  It was more charming than I remembered, and it warmed my heart.  I had a lovely theater companion in the comp seat next to mine as well - bonus.

After both shows Kurt and I went back to his place to catch up, gossip, and generally enjoy life.  It was good and fun and easy.

Sunday: slept in, lollygagged the early afternoon away, and spent the rest of the day at the pool at Traci's.  Her husband's buddy (womanizer, but nice enough dude) gave me a ride back to my hotel and paid me some extra attention.  I kept it super platonic, but extra attention is what it is - and it feels nice.

Monday was tough on my ego, so Kurt and I went out for drinks, dinner and drinks, and then more drinks.  Jon joined us, and we hit it off like gangbusters.  Here's the thing.  I'm lucky to have found several really strong friendships, but as you age, new strong friendships are rare.  This was one of those instant kindred spirit connections.  Someone who you respect, who validates the qualities you love about yourself.  I can't properly express how good this made me feel.  This is the feeling I don't want to lose.  And the fact that it was mutual made it that much dearer.  My last text from him was, "... And let's be real friends.  Please."  He lives in California, so I might not see this person again, but it might not matter because his effect on me by being a friend to me in just that one night was so important.  I know that sounds like I was in a bad place and needed a certain kind of friend, but that's not how this started.

Don't get me wrong.  I can't imagine having stronger or more loving or more unconditional friendships than those I have with Kurt, Steph, and Emily.  It ain't gonna happen.  But for some reason this instant connection with this sweet man swept me off my feet, and apparently I needed it.  I found myself spouting dating advice while simultaneously thinking, "you need to take your own advice, woman!"  Everything made sense that night, and I was so confident and content.

Now that I think of it, this was reminiscent of when Uncle Bill came to DC for a trip and we had breakfast together.  I don't remember what we talked about, and we didn't get to visit for too long, but we had conversations about life.  I walked away from that breakfast feeling so good about who I am, who I choose to be, and the life opportunities that were there before me.  This was the same feeling.  I'm not sure what about this encounter prompted it, but I'm so grateful for it and I so don't want it to go away!

The next work day was much better, and I went home on a happy note, still on an emotional high from my night out with those swell fellas.  I was airsick and carsick, but couldn't stop smiling from my lovely, real-life-filled weekend.  I'm trying to stay on a roll of positive thinking, easy confidence, optimism, and faith.  It waned a bit tonight when I hung out with Geno.  He's sad and lonely, and I don't know that I am helpful.  I want to be, but each person has to find their own way, and I don't know what his will be.  That was a bit of a downer, because in some ways he's so proactive, while in others I can see him spinning his wheels.

Just writing this post has already been immensely helpful.  I hope I can look back time and again and resurrect that feeling, that perspective.  It's the perfect medicine.  For everything.

Invasion

Since I am the center of the universe in this blog, everyone here knows that I cannot abide the house centipede. It freaks me out more than any other household bug. It's not the most logical nemesis. After all, they eat other bugs and practically never bite people. It's the appearance that gets me. They have so many legs that move so quickly they essentially flow. Stop. No. Stop.

Anyway. It's bed time here, and I noticed that there was a tiny tan-colored something next to my pillow, on the sheet. Kinda looks like a bug leg. I picked it up, held it under the light, and yes. It was a tiny bug let. I'm not as squeamish as I used to be, so I tossed it in the trash. No biggie. But then I remembered tucking my arm under my pillow the night before and feeling something hard, like a little piece of dried leaf or a tiny pebble. Maybe there's another bug leg under there. I'd better check, I told myself. So I lifted the pillow (not even dramatically, I swear), and there was a huge, smothered house centipede, with its legs all curled in, so you know it's dead.

I had slept on it. For how many days? I don't know! I touched it. I killed it. I touched it, and then I woke up and put my contacts in with those hands!

After I gave the body a proper burial, I started to notice how far around the bed some of the little legs had spread. Some of them were as thin as whiskers, so I'm not sure if they were leg parts or something else, but they were the same color.

It was a war zone. The dead were scattered everywhere. Could there have been more than one? No, I tell myself. Absolutely not. There's nothing for them to feed on here. I only get those roly-poly bugs, and nothing else.

As I attempted to pick up all of the pieces, I thought about the poor bug's family. Would they be appreciative of the care I was giving to these remains? And more importantly, have I seen too many Disney movies about bugs?

My sheets are changed, but jeez. Not the best news before bed.

I'm gonna be a therapist

It's happening. I'm morphing. It's wonderful.

I got this really testy email tonight from a friend. I'm her maid of honor, and she just lashed out at me. It's SO the same as her behavior from when we lived together, it just hadn't reared its ugly head since then, years ago. But now it's back, and it set me off.

I'm raw. I'm still processing Grandpa's death, which I won't get into. I'm getting over being so angry with my mom, which I also won't get into. Coming home to my own apartment after time with a big, boisterous family is always difficult, and I'm dealing with that this week as well. (I know, poor me, blah blah.) And this testy email sent me over the edge. It all came pouring out again and I was pretty upset.

So I thought of my sister, and her tactic when she's feeling blue or disparaged. I set to work writing a list of the people in my life who love me unconditionally. You know, the ones who would help you bury a body. (That's how Steph and I talk about it.) While the list provided comfort in the same way I think it does for my sister, it also made me think about how each of these people would react if I told them about my troubles. That brought new perspective. Then this happened in my brain:

- Her testy email was both hostile and.... paranoid, now that I think of it.

- Why on earth would she be paranoid that "discussions" are happening without her? Of course they are! We have to plan stuff....

- She doesn't want to be left out of any planning. She wants to be in control.

- She must be stupidly paranoid from feeling out of control. Why would she feel out of control?

- There are some big life changes happening, coupled with a boatload of wedding planning stress. Of course!

Next to my list of amazing people in my life, I soon found myself writing this: There's a lot of scary change coming down the pike, and she needs to feel in control. You can help her. It's the right, or at least the kind thing to do.

And just like that, I feel better. Man, shrinking is the best. I can't wait to help people. This shit is so healthy.

Then sings my soul

I'm not religious. I'm not even Christian anymore. I tried for a long time, and ended up agnostic. At all costs, I'm avoiding telling certain relatives, to avoid strained relationships and broken hearts. But the truth is still there; I don't have that faith.

Still. I've been going to church. This has mostly been under the influence of others (visitors and whatnot), but jeez louise, I've gotten a lot out of it. There's a Catholic (gasp!) church downtown that fills me with goodwill, hope, and general inspiration. It's also making me rethink things in difficult, healthy, emotionally challenging ways.

Basically it's making me feel all these feelings I think I've been avoiding. And even though I still don't feel religious, Christian, faithful, whatever, I like what's happening. Deep breaths.

Tackling the holidays

Thanksgiving weekend is over, and it was a doozey. I'm all preachy to my sister about not putting too much pressure on oneself, and I spent the last few weeks stressing over how to make the holidays enjoyable for everyone. Awake in bed for all the wrong reasons.....

But hopefully it'll be for better reasons soon! (Like my segue?) Not to rush, but date number 2 is secured for Tuesday, a full two weeks after the first one. This guy is nice, and possibly boring. I've seen friends date boring people, and I never understood it, but I'm starting to think they were just lonely and this person was good-enough-for-now. Like I said, I've only had one date with the guy, so I'm trying to hold back judgement. Nice is the most important thing for now, anyway. Maybe he can make me laugh on Tuesday. Or maybe we can just make out. Whatevs.

Having family here was so. nice. We even got to have a girl's night, which I will describe as follows. It was really fun, and we had a really great time, but my guess is that in the years to come when we think back on it, we'll remember it as an Amazing time, unforgettable. And I like that about us. Also, we took great pictures, further proof of best times ever.

Now I'm home, and I've started melting back into the real world by doing homework and moving my suitcase all the way from the living room to my bedroom. Baby steps. But the holidays keep coming, so it's time for shopping. Is that really so bad? There will be some major stress packages in the weeks to come, but it won't be anything I can't handle. I've got an exercise buddy, a nightguard, and an appeared-out-of-nowhere bottle of coconut rum on the cabinet. I can deal. First world problems, right? They can eat my dust.

Livin' alone

I lived alone for five seconds after I moved out of my place with my brother, and before Steph moved in. Today, Steph moved out.

And I MISS HER!

Y'oughta be in pictures, I say!

After a day of conferencing, I got off the plane tonight at 9, walked across to the other wing of the airport, took the walkway to the shuttle, the shuttle to the economy parking lots at the end of the line, and the bus to the furthest economy lot. A whole bunch of us got on the bus, and everyone but me got off at the first stop. So the driver and I chatted, and he told me that I've, "got a Mona Lisa thing going on." Said he noticed it as soon as I got on the bus. That I look like I should be in a portrait.

Um, hells yes I'll take it.

The end.

So I'm a little tipsy. So what.

Stressful week, good outcomes. Found an apartment, avoided a challenging landlady, will be in an amazing location. But getting to all that resolution takes a toll emotionally. And today was tough at work, though clearly it'll all be fine.

Tonight I came home ready for (a) queso fundido with margaritas at the good mexican restaurant in the hood, or (b) bottle of wine + bubble bath. Since my brother was up for option a, we got a pitcher of margaritas and had a swell time.

A few margaritas in, he said something like, "You're fun when you're drunk, Annie."

THIS IS THE GENERAL CONSENSUS.

The first time I had drinks with coworkers, I warned them from the get-go that were they to prefer drunk Annie to sober Annie, socially at least, they should keep it to themselves. I've had enough friends share their preference, and it ain't always easy on the ego.

Ultimately I'm glad I'm a fun drunk and all, but since I'm sober 98% of the time, shouldn't that be my best self?

Oh well. I'll take what I've got. Drunk Annie is a good time, after all.

Less guilt

I'm heading out shortly to go to a White Sox game, and really looking forward to it. My brother left the house in a hurry to get to his internship, smelling strongly of weed. He returned a couple minutes later, having missed the bus. He figured out that he could catch a different bus, if he hoofed it for 15 minutes or so to another area. He just called me to say, "I normally wouldn't ask you, because I know you're heading to the game, but I just missed the second bus. [Would you come pick me up and drive me to my internship?]"

Me: "Can't. I have to leave in 15 minutes to get to the game."

Him: "Ok."

Not a dramatic exchange, by any means, but let me tell you how I've progressed. First of all, it took me a long time to be able to say no. Second, after being able to say no, I would have felt guilt for days, picturing his puppy dog eyes, his disappointment in not having his shit together, adding to his low self esteem. If I wanted the best for him, shouldn't I help?

But I'm starting to put myself first a little more. Not a lot, but like this. And I'll tell ya, knowing that he'd have caught the first bus if he hadn't spent his morning smoking up takes a Lot of the guilt away.

Saturday = Flirtyday

I finally got some flirting action, and it was So. Nice. My brother came home from music improv class and brought a couple of fellas with him to play and sing for a while. At first I thought it could be nice background music, or maybe even a nuisance, but it ended up going well into the night, and I ended up joining in on the fun.

So let me clarify. If you take my brother out of the equation (which you do), in the house were me, and two single, attractive, straight men with strong appreciation for music, comedy, and theater. Both of them surprised me. One is my age, and he has a voice that can Melt you. Melt, I say. It reminds me of George Strait's voice, but lower and stronger. Mm hm. He's a Kentucky boy with a thick accent, and kind as can be. We sang Brad Paisley and Allison Kraus together. It felt good.

The other is only 23 or 24 years old, and oddly, I felt a stronger connection with him, personality-wise. He's sweet and funny, and he may have left his FB page open after he left, and I may have looked at some of his pictures and posts on his page. Also, since he's friends with Mr. Kentucky, I got to see some of his stuff, too. Anyway, the youngster is from Belgium, went to grad school in Scotland, and just moved to Chicago in October. His dad is from Jersey, so he has no accent. Aside from English, he speaks fluent Italian, fluent French, good Spanish, and some Hebrew. He seems selfless and mature, and I like him.

If I had to guess tonight, I'm probably not ultimately compatible with either of these guys, but both were eyeing me a little bit, and that was a good feeling. Plus, I can't remember the last time I had half this interest in anyone. It's been over a year for sure. Which means it's been over a year for multiple things, which is a total bummer.

Anyway. I feel nice.

A sign of times to come?

I told my brother I'm moving out when the lease is up. I've been looking forward to it for a while. Before, that, I struggled like crazy with the decision - feeling guilty, making pro/con lists. Sadly, we're not as forthright with our feelings with each other as we should be. But that's a post of a different color. I forget how sensitive he is, and when I learn thoughts he shares with others and not me.... I feel that much more guilt, as he apparently shows great appreciation for me when I'm not around. (And to be fair, some when I am around.) But just because he appreciates me doesn't mean I can live with him forever. It's time.

And yet. I get lonely pretty easily. I love being around family. He and I have fun together. I've quite appreciated having the house to myself this evening, but now that I'm getting ready for bed, I keep thinking, "Gee, I didn't get to tell anybody about my day. Too bad he's not home yet. Maybe if I wait a few more minutes...."

What will happen when I live alone? I'm anticipating a few sad nights at least. I'm lonely right now, but not sad. I'm still pretty confident that this is the right decision, but our place here together sure does feel like a home. Am I really moving out just because I want to keep my place tidier? Not have to share a bathroom? Those reasons sound like those of a spoiled, selfish person. On top of that, doesn't living together enhance our lives more than trouble them? Shouldn't I value living with a family member more than whatever independence or privacy I'm coveting? What does this say about my priorities? Plus, this puts him in a difficult spot - his finances aren't as comfy as mine. Why should I force him to struggle more than he already does - just so I can start a prettier-on-the-surface life? Am I doing the right thing?

So there are nights like tonight when I question my decision, what I stand for, who I want to be . . . and there are nights when I think, Is the lease up yet? I sure am hoping I find a calm balance between the two soon, at least one I can reference for reassurance. 'Cause this sucks.

A glimpse into my family visit

"I think it's interesting that it tastes like vomit, but I still like it."

My brother.

Speechless

I'm so mad. So disappointed. Ashamed even. Almost every time I disagree with someone I'm able to see their point of view. But sometimes people who know better just outrage me. I don't get it. Self-righteous, first-stone-throwing, selfish, solipsistic, judgmental, overreacting, inconsiderate goop. I've been talking out loud to myself for the last 20 minutes, trying to get this out of my system. I can't finish a sentence when I try to express my frustration. I just want to get them on the phone and yell, "Who the Fuck do you think you ARE? Are you serious? Are you seriously that self-absorbed and withholding? AAARRRGGHHHH!"

Deep breathing. Yoga. Playing the guitar. Trying to feel better.

People sometimes. Come on.

How my brain works

Yesterday I heard a story about an attempted rape that happened just a couple of blocks from my house on Thursday of this week. It was at 4:44p.m. (!) in the afternoon. A 14-year-old girl got off the bus on the main street by my house, and was walking home. She noticed a man following her, began to run, and he caught up with her as she made her way up the steps of her house. He grabbed her, tried to kiss her, pulled her pants down, and was working on his own as she kicked and screamed. Another man was walking his great dane, Scooby, nearby. He heard the commotion and ran over. The criminal took off running, and the man and his dog chased him. They cornered him in an alley, and apparently the dog was intimidating enough to keep him there until police arrived.

This bastard has been arrested almost 40 times since 2001. He's got three felony drug convictions. (How the hell is he free? And what else has he gotten away with? I wonder if he was on something at the time...) He lives on the south side, and looks none too pleased in his mug shot. This jerk doesn't even live in my neighborhood. This could happen anywhere.

Can you imagine being that young girl? Well that's where my brain goes when I'm trying to go to sleep. Did I remember to lock the door tonight? What would I do if somebody busted in the window? Followed me up my front stairs? Would I lose my breath and not be able to scream? That pain must be awful. How would I tell my friends and family afterward? Would I even tell people at work? What if I have to take time off for counseling? Would I tell my boss? How would that conversation go? I practice it.

What about just afterwards, in the hospital? Who would I call to hold my hand while they administer the rape kit? Would there even be time to call someone? Would they pick up the phone, or would their cell be on vibrate in the other room for the night so they can sleep? I need to get a land line.

So I started going through the list of who I would call. Of my very dear friends, Becky, is the best in a crisis. I figure, in such a situation, you don't want someone to talk to you. You want them to sit next to you, hold your hand, and shut up. You don't want them to look at you with pity or sadness, you just want them to look at you with a this-fucking-sucks-but-I'm-here-for-you-big-time expression and get you a drink of water or hold you when you need it.

But of course, Becky lives hundreds of miles away and wouldn't be able to come to the hospital that night. Sadly, I wouldn't want immediate family there. They'd be crazy upset, and that would suck even more. I have a couple of cousins in Chicago, and they might be able to be a silent comfort. And a couple of really good friends in the area might be able to pull it off as well. For some reason, I think my Aunt S. and my aunt on my mom's side would both be good in such a situation. One is just three hours away. Ok. I can call her.

Then more questions. Would I ever even tell my parents? As a parent, I'd definitely want to know, but what good would it do? It'd just make them miserable. And worrisome. What if it happened to someone else in my family? Would I be hurt if they didn't want me there at the hospital? I could TOTALLY do the silent, pitiless, supportive thing. But is that what most people would want? Is my hypothetical interpretation of the victim's needs typical?

What must it have been like for my dad when he was in the hospital for the transplant, feeling vulnerable, having his kids around? Was it hard on his ego? Was it hard as a dad, being the one taken care of? Was it easier to visit with his siblings? Parents? Wife?

I used to walk home at night every once in a while from the subway or from a friend's house. It's just a 10 minute walk. I don't think I'll do that anymore. I'll drive or take a cab.

Sad, right? Walking's nice.

Flashback City, population: me

I live with my oldest brother, who's almost two years younger than me. Another two years younger is our next brother, who happens to be in town visiting this evening on his way up north for a new gig.

What have I done with my evening, you ask? Came home, did dishes, made dinner, ate with the boys, threw in a load of laundry, and have been working on some homemade Christmas presents. What are the boys doing, you ask? Playing Super Mario Brothers.

Twenty years ago, things weren't too terribly different. I was probably reading the Babysitters Club books, and sometimes playing SMB with the boys. They were often losing their tempers when they lost lives in the game, getting angry and sometimes violent when one would take the other's turn, showing sheepish, reluctant gratitude when the other showed a rare moment of generosity and shared a life to keep the joint game going.

These days they show amusement or mild disappointment when a life is lost in the game. Their bellies are bigger and they've got some cash in their pockets, but the boyish, entranced look is still in full force when those mustachioed characters jump across the screen.

For the most part, the sound effects from video games drive me CRAZY. But we don't get to see this brother as often as we should, nor as we'd like. It's nice to hear them chuckling and encouraging each other in there. Even if it is turning them into morons.

Mom vent

Quotations....

"If you don't invite God to your wedding, I. Will. Be. Heartbroken."

"You know I love gay people as individuals, I just don't love their lifestyle." (Full disclosure, I'm wearing an HRC bracelet right now.)

"Well that's great [that my newly married nephew hired the mentally disabled-run pastry shop to bake different cakes for his wedding], but I had the idea for multiple wedding cakes first. I mean, where do you think they got the idea?" (My thought: their experience with the pastry shop?!?)

"Your brother said that this was the best wedding he's ever been to. [Pause] But what about my wedding? [Sigh] I guess it's apples and oranges."

"Oh, it's just lovely. But why didn't you get one for me?"

Come on!!!!!

Can I be Pansy?

My great grandma Pansy was an incredibly kind woman. She would ask the birthday of everyone she knew, and sent them all cards every year. After she passed away (over 20 years ago), our family members started getting phone calls from friends and exes they themselves hadn't spoken to in decades asking, "Is your grandmother ok? I get a birthday card from her every year, but I didn't hear from her this year."

For me, it doesn't get much more poignant than that.

My brother broke up with his girlfriend. Everybody thought this was it - they'd get hitched, start poppin out little ones, etc. But instead, it has ended. I am absolutely there for him, and he seems to be doing ok. Thing is, I want to be there for her, too. Rough. Plus, it feels like she needs me in that capacity more than he does.

Weird.

So I'm doing it. I told him, made sure he was ok with it, etc. And of course, he's wonderful and supportive even though it's not the norm.... and I can't help but be inspired by Grandma Pansy.

Love.

Free weekend? What?

Most of the time I'm running from point A to point Q, with a zillion steps in between, just trying to keep up with life. Part work, part family, lots of weddings, etc. This weekend, however, I had no plans. Both days were completely beautiful, and all I wanted to do was sleep, clean, eat, and and watch Veronica Mars. All in the comfort of my cozy living room.

Feeling lazy, I agreed to drive my brother to work Saturday afternoon, and I saw all the people out having fun: couples walking along in the sunshine, kids riding their bikes and skateboards, groups sitting out on patios drinking beers and laughing. I wasn't doing any of that, felt sorry for myself, and tried to appreciate it by proxy or something.

I went to the grocery store so I could say I did something productive with my day. When I parked, my CD played the song "The Pretender," and I lost it in my car. Pit party, gross. Got it together, went in the store, and sang to myself as I walked around getting the basics. One of the workers smiled and said hi, so of course I smiled back and said Hi there! He came closer and said, "I want to know your secret. Every time I see you in here, you're smiling wide. Always happy. So? You gonna tell me?" I replied, "Just optimism! That's all I got."

He really made my day. Not to mention a slew of ridiculous upbeat texts from Kurt while I was in the store. Thanks, buddy.

Let's face it. I'm a social creature. If I don't have friend or family entertainment built in to a free day's plans, I'm probably going to stay home and eat watermelon with Will & Grace. I wish I were out exploring the city on my own, but that's not how I operate. I would NEVER make it on a deserted island.

Curse you, house centipedes!

Me: Did you kill a big, nasty bug on the kitchen floor and leave it there?

Brother: [shakes head]

Me: Well there's a smashed dead guy in the middle of the kitchen floor. And I see that neither of us is wearing shoes right now.

Brother: [smirk]

Me: Look, I'm not sure which of us was actually in the kitchen last, but I'm going to say it was you. And that's how we're gonna play this thing.

Brother: [continued smirk]

Me: [leaves the room]