(First post here, am I doing it right?)
It had been one of those days you just want to get over with. It was all sunshine and rainbows until my mom handed me that goddamn petition and ordered me to trudge around the neighbourhood, getting each and every one to sign on to her cause.
“We need that speedbump Claire!” She said for the umpteenth time and I sort of zoned out of the rest, but I imagine it was some kind of vivid exploration of the possibility of my brother being murdered in cold blood by a roving gang of joyriders. When I protested she swiftly reminded me that I was graciously being allowed to live at home until I found purpose in life or possibly Jesus. Again, I wasn’t listening as much as I was reading the mental obituary on my social life. “Here lies Claire’s invites to parties – we never really liked her anyway.”
But still. Without a college degree and the ability to bankroll my lavish lifestyle while also paying the kind of outrageous prices they charge for rent around here, I really had no choice. Begrudgingly I took her damn petition and began my journey.