Never give a child candy, when that child is your 20-year-old roommate.

As I typed that last post, Arianna blew raspberries on my arm and then laughed so hard at it that she started snorting.

She did the same thing a few days ago, when my grandma agreed that our family is run by an iron-fisted matriarch. And all she could say after was “matriarch” and then she started laughing again.

I’m basically living with a kindergartener stuck in an adult’s body.

At least it’s never boring around here.


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