When my sister moved in with us six months ago we made a few agreements. Such as, as part of her board we would provide food. If she wanted items above and beyond what was purchased she would have to buy it herself. Special things, fancy things or just things. Like Singles cheese slices {I refuse to buy real cheese, grated cheese, block cheese and plastic slice cheese} and frozen bags of potato wedges.
The other night, desperate for something simple and carb heavy for dinner we heated one of my Sis’s bag of wedges. Being a good housemate, I sent her a text asking if I could eat them, replace them the day after BEFORE I started heating them. It might or might not have started the heating process BEFORE I had heard back. But you know, it’s the thought that counts.
The next day after lunch with my Aunt & Mum {yes, AGAIN} I mentioned I was going to replace the wedges. And in a moment of excellent story telling on my behalf I regaled them with stories of my trepidation sharing the kitchen and about the time I ate a cheese slice and felt guilty about it…
Turns out I’m an excellent story teller.
But it almost started a war when my Aunt told my cousin who told my sister that I was worried about eating the cheese. That I’m not allowed to eat the cheese. My sis was like, you can EAT the cheese. No biggie!! I cringed. I tried to explain. Tried to regale her with stories of my trepidation sharing the kitchen and about the time I ate the cheese slice…
Turns out, I’m not a very good explain’er.
She just looked at me. And said, you can eat the cheese, it’s fine. Shrugged. And walked away.
Right. I thought. Excellent. And made myself a sandwich.
Note: This post might be slightly exaggerated for effect. My sis has never once told me not to eat her cheese. Ever. But she gets this look in her eyes… i’m just sayin. She does. Ha.
Suger 
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