Babysitting

This isn't ordinary babysitting, before you get excited. I don't get to look after cute little girls and plait their hair and watch Barbie Princess Charm School and at the end of the night, get paid for it. I am babysitting my ten year old mine craft playing nose picking brother. Well I don't actually know that he picks his nose, but I've suspected he does it in secret for years......
I don't even get paid. I mean it would be different if I were PAID. But no. Apparently family babysit family for free. And, as my mother kindly pointed out, it's not as if I was doing anything else tonight.
Great. Thanks mum. Making me look uncool to the Internet. I would so be going out if doctor who wasn't on tonight.
So my brother disappeared into the study to play some strange Internet game and I was bored. So then I thought hey, why not go on that new blog I made yesterday ? And I was like YEAH!
I apologise if I'm using too many capitals for you. I don't use capitals to shout, I use them to express my boundless enthusiasm.
So I'm pecking away at the keyboard and my sister, who's reading a book about Stalin, decides to accidentally (yeah right) touch my leg with her foot. And this wouldn't be a problem, if she wasn't wearing socks.
I hate  socks. To fully understand the way I feel about socks, think of the thing that irritates you the most in the world. The sound of people sawing polyester. Cracking knuckles. People who call Canada "Canadia", and yes, they do exist. It doesn't even have to exactly annoy you. Just the thing that makes you go YEUCH! That most trivial thing that you feel so strongly about it almost disgusts you.
Well mine is socks.
So how do you go about in this sock filled world, Addie, living your life, I hear you ask. Well I'll tell you.
Drugs.
Just kidding. The sock horror is only active when it's someone else's socks. I survive with my own socks on my feet. Well maybe survive isn't the right word. I can suffer through socks on my own feet. I peel them off as soon as I get home, and go around without them when I can get away with such shenanigans. Which can be awkward when you get in that routine and you realize halfway through a training session you've got bare feet in old trainers. Which gives you blisters like bejeezus. But when it's other people touching me with their  scratchy, materially, frictiony disgusting socky feet, IJUSTCANTADSJFLWMINDEXPLODES.

Well this post turned out a lot longer and stranger than it was supposed to, and had basically nothing to do with babysitting.
Live long and prosper
SPOCK HAND