It’s funny. This entry was going to be about the temperature in my apartment and it became something else. I decided to confess something. It’s been eating away at me for years. It’s something I never told my sister. Who knows what she’ll do when she finds out. I’ve kept this from her for many years. Now I am telling you.
I bet you’re wondering what it feels like in my apartment. It’s okay. I am asked that question a lot. Since we know each other, I will tell you what you’ve been dying to know. I don’t turn my air on. I don’t turn the heat on. I should rephrase that. It’s a rare occurrence when I do. It’s not that I am neither hot or cold, it’s cause I am cheap. I blame my sister. She would instill this fear in me that using the air conditioner is a sin. I guess you could compare the severity of the sin to a Mormon drinking a beer or fornication with a non-believer. It is pretty serious. She put that thought in my head and I rarely turn the air on or use the heat during the cold, mid-western months. Speaking of my sister, I have this secret that’s been eating away at me for years. She doesn’t know about it but my family does and they were very accepting when I told them. I just hope she doesn’t blow her top when this secret reaches her.
It was many moon ago when this happen. We were on a family trip back to Chicago. It wasn’t the whole family but just the amount of people who were able to fit inside my mother’s Mazda MPV. At some point in the trip, we stopped at an Irish store. My mother’s idea I assume. Anything Irish and she’s all over it. We go in and we’re perusing around. My mom buys some trinkets and other items that I am sure she’s lost over the years. My sister buys a wool blanket. I spied this nifty, green duster. I really liked it! Do I have a use for it? No. I am not a sheep herder and will never be. It just looked awesome and sometimes you buy things just because they are awesome.
I checked out the price tag. 100 dollars. After I regained consciousness, I eyed the price tag again. I hoped that taking a second look at the price it would magically drop down to a more reasonable price. It didn’t. It still stayed at 100. But I really wanted it. I can buy it. I have no bills. I live at home. I don’t have responsibilities. My mother is fine with it. “It’s your money.” She is right. It’s my money and if I want to buy that coat or buy a barrel of jolly ranchers, so be it. My sister catches wind of my purchase and steps in.
You don’t need that.
But I want it.
Do you NEED it?
Then you’re not buying it.
I give her the middle finger in my head and we all shuffle back in the MPV. My sister looks at me and with this smirk on her face (being the cruel and vindictive person she is) says loudly,
Did everyone get what they wanted? I know I did!
The car ride back to the hotel was a time for self-reflection. I wondered about life with the coat and I wondered about life without the coat. I wasn’t happy. If anything, I bet I resembled my sister in the photo to the left. That’s how upset I was. Smiles all around but none on my face. I was denied happiness. People say you can’t buy happiness. You can and it only cost 100 dollars.
We piled in the hotel room. Since there was 6 of us on this trip, we had to split up in two rooms. I shared the cool and fun room with my sister (universal hat) and my mom. Trust me, that was the fun room. My sister is snuggled up on the bed with her wool pillow. She’s coddling it like a baby and my mom is checking out the earrings she bought in the mirror adjacent to the television. My mom used her motherly powers and detected that her young son was heartbroken and on the verge of crying. She didn’t comfort me with a hug and a kiss. She did however come up with an ingenious plan to bring me the joy and happiness my evil sister snatched from me at the Irish store.
My mother pulled out the receipt from her bag and asked me again how badly I wanted the jacket I was “talked” into not getting. I’d give everything I owned to get my tiny hands on that green duster. She dials the number of the shop and hands me the phone. “Tell them what you want.” I talk to the lady on the phone and explain to her that I really wanted the green duster but was rushed out before I could make the purchase. I couldn’t tell her the true story about my sister using her Tony Robbins powers of persuasion to talk me out of the purchase. I didn’t want to come across as a cruel and unloving brother. I bought the duster over the phone! I made the purchase. My mother, sister, and I had a good laugh. That’s a mother’s love. She knew what I needed. The lost happiness and the heavy pain I felt inside was gone. All I wanted now was to rush into the other room and tell my sister what I did. I wanted to rub it in her face that I got what I wanted and you can’t stop me. I didn’t. My mother stopped me. She didn’t want my sister to know about it. We had to keep it a secret. No one outside the room can know. We made a pact to never tell my sister about the purchase. She can never know. No one can know. They mustn’t. She mustn’t. I swore to take this deceptive secret to my grave. I promised to never bring it up ever. To this day, my sister has no idea that I bought the jacket. She probably still thinks I have that 100 bucks in my pocket. She still feels like a winner that night. I’m sure she still finds joy in knowing that she saved me from making a costly mistake. What she doesn’t know is that the jacket is safely tucked away in my mother’s closet at home. It was a great purchase. I have no regrets buying it. I will admit, I looked pretty swag when I wore it…that one and only time.