My sister is staying with us for a few precious days; days where I might actually be able to claim some mental health time and get out for some air and do some book-related jobs on my own. This is a rarity and I cherish the opportunity immensely.
That’s not to say that we don’t squabble or tease each other. For example, when we collected my sister from the gate at the airport, she cocked her head to the side and stared at mine.
“Your new haircut,” she said. “It reminds me of someone…someone famous…I just can’t quite place it…”
“I look like Bette Midler in her ‘career slump’ era in Beaches,” I said glumly, not having a good hair day. “That, or Cruella de Ville in 101 Dalmatians.”
Well her eyes lit up and she doubled over, hooting with laughter and I joined her because, well, it was funny. And true, unfortunately.
And only sisters can sit and inspect each other to see who has the hairier back (note: I do.)
Ah, sisters. They can be great.
Well, most of the time they can be…
