The Power of IM

As I write this, I am IM'ing with Baby Sis. Lula Bo and I have a weird IM relationship. It begins, generally, with one of us saying something rude to the other one to get the other's attention. Then there is a general discussion of who watched what on t.v. or DVD recently, with a thorough analysis of exactly how hot Michael Vartan really is (and he's really, really fucking hot). Then it degenerates into what basically amounts to an I know you are but what I am dialogue.

I kind of enjoy these childish exchanges.

The problem is that I don't get to really spend a lot of time with my sister, which is unfortunate because she's an interesting if slightly strange in a really good way person. I always tell people that even if we weren't related I'd want to be friends with Lula. We get along pretty well, as long as we're not together in an enclosed space (say, like the house we grew up in or a vehicle) for extended periods of time longer than ten hours. It's the same thing with my parents, though, too. Longer than sixteen hours with them makes me twitch. Is that a bad thing?

Anyway, my sister and I are at that stage of IMing where we're verging on silly incivility. Which is kind of fun. It's fun to say outrageous things to her and see how irritated she gets. In some ways, that will never get old. I'll be eighty and she'll be seventy-seven and I'll still try to get a rise out of her. It's generally an enjoyable experience. If we were in person and having these conversations, she'd say, "Luuuuceeeeee," in this really grossed out, exasperated tone of voice that would make me cackle with glee and keep trying to irritate her. But she giggles usually at some point, so I know she's just trying not to laugh. So that's cool. A day you can make your little sister laugh, especially if she's not having a good day, is a day well spent.