my bedroom is tiny

Sometimes I open my bedroom closet, just to double the size of my bedroom.

my brother

My brother Dan and I lived together, as adults, for several years.

It was perfect. We got along great, and he's still one of my favourite people.

We had been living together for a while when I went shopping for new clothes, and found some cool black boxers covered in little jolly rogers. I bought one pair for myself, and another pair for my brother. I brought them home, and tried to give him the larger pair.

He declined the underwear, emphatically saying, "No. NO! We are not, absolutely NOT, wearing matching underwear."

As children, when we went camping or on a ski trip, Dan regularly (dare I say frequently) forgot his toothbrush.

So, we shared a toothbrush. That was dad's solution. Once we arrived at our destination and Dan announced that he had forgotten his toothbrush, it was decided that my toothbrush was communal property. It was always Dan who forgot, and my toothbrush that was sacrificed.

We thought nothing of it, until Dan mentioned it in front of his wife, who was thoroughly disgusted. She asked, "I don't understand. Why didn't your father just buy another toothbrush?"

We looked at her, with blank expressions, and I said, "Oh, that option was never on the table."

How close are Dan and I?

Matching underwear -Hard no.

Shared toothbrush -OK.

I'm in a mood.

It's the feeling of mild betrayal when you put off a Windows update for weeks, with the full intention of doing it eventually, but then your computer goes behind your back and restarts while you're asleep.

laughter and receding footsteps

I managed to get locked into a few tight spaces as a child. Sometimes my brothers tricked me. Often I was shoved. I got locked into a rabbit hutch, and I got locked into a closet in our garage. One time I was pushed into a locker at school by my older brother. And I usually heard, from the inside of the enclosed space, laughter and receding footsteps.

The very last time was by my father. I was half-asleep on the top bunk in a trailer, and he said to my brother, "Do you think we can fold it up, with her in it?"

They could, and they did.

-fwoop- -click-

And then I heard, muffled through layers of sleeping bag and plywood, laughter and receding footsteps.

I am inconsolable.

I don't mean to alarm anyone, but the Ring Pop that I have been saving for three whole days looks nothing, and I mean nothing, like the advertised product.

Dad

My father taught me a lot of life skills when I was a child: tying my shoes, changing the oil in a car, and using a Maglite to incapacitate an intruder.

But there is one thing that I taught him, that he mentions frequently. He brings it up while making use of it. If your hands are greasy and you are without a napkin, wipe your hands on your socks, because nobody will ever notice a grease stain on your socks.

You're welcome, dad.

And happy Father's Day.

cleaning up my house

I'm going through old files, and shredding old pay stubs and tax documents.

Long after I'm dead, I would like to be remembered as, "A slow and brief transfer of an insignificant amount of wealth between corporations."