As you learned in last Friday’s video, I now live with my sister Becca in the Hooker House. Get used to it – I have a feeling that Life on Hooker Street will become a popular subject on this blog.
Aside from time time spent under our parent’s roof, this is the first time that Becca and I have lived together. She is 3 1/2 years younger, half my weight* and twice my sarcasm.
Becca has a dog, and she’s pretty much obsessed with him. His name is Gabe, but “The Greebs” is the moniker that’s stuck. So obviously, I now live with the Greebs, too.
Are you curious about these two new roommates of mine? Here. I’ll show you.
And in case you forgot, here is me.
So, yes. This could be interesting. ACKNOWLEDGED.
But so far, it’s been fun.
I’m teaching Becca things like “you have to rinse your plastic soup container before you put it in the recycling bin.” And she’s teaching me things like “this isn’t Auschwitz.”
For all he sheds, and despite the fact that he ate one of my books, the Greebs is kind of becoming my best bud. On hot days, I walk him the half-mile to Sloan’s Lake where he can swim. And on the days when I work from home, he never leaves my side. I talk to him in my voice reserved for dogs (admit it: you have a “dog voice,” too), and when I grab his leash and say, “You wanna go?” he jumps in the air like a kangaroo.
In the midst of so much upheaval and transition in our family, I am thankful for a sister to share a home with. And despite our differences (which are many), there is a comfort in knowing that at the end of the day, I’m not alone.
Even if it means that my couch – and floor – and car – and clothes – are covered in dog hair.
*Not really. But basically.