“Impulse day, Carla!” I said to my sister who was feeling a bit run down from work. She came over, looked exhausted from her job as a real estate broker, and collapsed on the couch. Complaints ranged from, ‘that b*tch in the office’ to the ‘cheapskate customer who wants a house for nothing.’ Her job is demanding, so a lot of leisure time is needed for my sis. I try to provide that for her, if she lets me. She runs around all day with her cell phone attached to her ear 24/7, the speaker phone direct connect bleeping with tons of different voices spewing out loud, from co-workers to demanding customers who want answers now.
“I drove all f*cking day with their damn kids in the back screaming bloody murder with their muddy shoes all over my leather seats!” Carla rants as she melts into the sofa.
“You need an impulse day Carla…I say we go to the mall, go shopping, and grab a few cocktails afterwards.” I said to her thinking she would automatically rule that out.
“Let’s go.” Carla said.
Hundreds of dollars spent in department stores, an array of perfumes sprayed and purchased while smelling like cheap whores, to clothes bought for therapeutic purposes and a few cocktails to wash down the rest of our guilt for the shopping spree gone wild.
“Feel better?” I asked as she was sucking up the last of her bloody mary through a large straw.
“Ah, definitely. We gotta do this more often, Deb!”
I can rely on the breaking point of Carla’s stressful days, to take advantage of hanging out with her. Once she has had a few wines, relaxed, and finally settled down to forget about work, we always have the best times. Carla and I are very much alike. We have the same temper, we both get anxiety attacks when under pressure, and we give our significant others a piece of our mind when it’s due. She has a man that can withstand her wrath, and I have a woman who knows how to handle the explosive episodes that I can dish out.
Madelene and I were just getting back from grabbing a few things at the super market. Carla comes rushing over in a panic.
“Come on, let’s get something to eat and have a few drinks.” Carla suggested.
I knew right away Carla had a day from hell. Sitting in an open house, waiting for curious customers with no intentions of buying the house, in 95 degree heat, she was fed up.
“I can’t stand these f*cking people! They come in asking a ton of questions wasting my f*cking time, and then leave!"
If I would have known that she was PMSing, I would have brought the big guns out, but she suggested some wine and appetizers. It was her call that evening.
Nothing like a few bottles of wine to loosen you up; we were all happy and content. Sitting out on the deck, enjoying the warm summer breeze, overlooking the lake, I pick up and run like a lunatic because of the bee that was chasing me. I am deathly afraid of bees—in the blog, “My Pathetic Phobias” you can see how my fear of bees has made me appear quite insane many times. This bee wasn’t normal. It had an agenda. It was after me. My name, “Debra”, means ‘Queen Bee”---so my mother cursed me for life. I attract all bees—of any kind. This made Carla laugh, because she thinks I’m a complete nut. Both Carla and Madelene sit there, laughing, not even budging—watching me bug out over this bee.
This Sunday is Carla’s 40th birthday. We plan to go out again, but ‘indoors’ this time, so I’m safe. It’s a special day which I want to celebrate, because Carla isn’t just my sister, but she is a true friend of mine. We always had fun when we go out, and she is always there when I need her. I can count on her for anything, she is the most thoughtful and most giving person; and as complicated and complex as she can be, I can relate, because she is ‘me’.
Happy birthday Carla, I love you!
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