Not that we're counting

Monk is mad. I can't help but laugh, even though he has a point. Sister called to ask me for a (bazillionth) favor: Her cosmetology class needs a victim-er-model next week on which to perform a whole evening's worth of torture-ahem-pampering. The evening includes a haircut, facial, manicure and pedicure. Considering I told her that, since she's already made my hair as short as I can stand it, if she trims more than a millimeter I will embarrass her in front of her class (...somehow... she embarrasses easily, though, so I'll think of something), and since my fingernails haven't been long or painted since junior high (and even then? not that long), it should be a quick jaunt from the mud mask to cutting her to bits with the calluses on my feet.

I wanted to say no, but for some reason I haven't mastered that ability when it comes to my dealings with that woman. Inside, I'm still the 12-year old little sister trying to get my big sis to like me. This translates into constantly doing favors for Sister and her husband, but never asking for anything in return. Not because we're such good people, mind you, but more because we learned a long time ago that they are not People We Can Count On. We keep telling ourselves that we're building up karma (but for what? And what on earth will we cash it in for?), but this new favor throws a big wrench in the works of our coming week. I'll have massage appointments Tuesday, the Cosmetology Performance Art Project all evening Wednesday, then another 2-hour massage appointment on Thursday... and Friday, instead of going home and having a beer or three with the huzz, I'll be rushing over to pick up our niece to launch what will surely be the eternal babysitting weekend of the resentful mind.

Sister and husband are going (their separate ways) out of town that weekend, and because Sister leaves on Thursday, she won't be able to do Monk the favor of letting the dogs out that afternoon when he'll be working later than usual. Monk said this morning, in a fit of exasperation that at this point, we're not even earning any karma from these favors. The subtext of his rant was that we are up to our ears in karma, that we will never be paid back, never get to cash it in, that we are suckers. And I am the suckerest sucker of the suckers because I cannot stop perpetuating the Great Suckerhood.

I am also, by the way, on my way to being a damned good massage therapist (way to segue, Q!). Last night I worked on someone who had been a repeat client of one of the registered (licensed) therapists. I was a little apprehensive about the switch from a real massage therapist to a fake one, but I put on my game face and brought the guy back to the clinic. And would you believe, he not only tipped me more than half the price of the massage, but told the school administrator that the massage I gave him was better than the ones he'd had previously? From the registered therapist, people. The registered, more experienced massage therapist. Am awesome, and so smug about it that I can hardly bear to be in the same room with myself right now.

That just means that soon, after I've made my millions from massage therapy, Monk won't be allowed to get mad at me for having no willpower when it comes to Sister and these constant favors. He won't be able to afford to be mad. Not when I can buy and sell him, then pound him into submissive jello after I've bought him again, then pay him to do all the favors I've promised Sister while I lay around the pool, protecting my hands, preserving my craft... Victory will be mine. Sucker.

1 comment:

Anonymous skyhawk said...

Sounds like 'karma' repaid you for the asshole client you had last month, with the cool one this week. But Sis and Co. definitely need to find another set of babysitters.

1:17 PM  

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