142. New order (2)

 That's it! She's out of the country! With the monster suitcase. 

I did go up there. To the top floor, the girls' floor, the floor where there is always some kind of trouble.

'Open your case, please. I want to see if you really need that huge case, you might be able to get rid of some stuff.'

I am trying to be diplomatic. 

'You're so annoying! You tell me I'm going to have to cope on my own and you want to pack my case. That's being inconsistent.'

She is stressing the word. That is not very diplomatic of her. 

'All right, then you can pay for the extra kilos.'

She lifts the lid just a tiny bit so I can get a peak.

'It's ok. Close it ... and weigh it.'

I go back down the stairs, all the way back down to the safe floors. I can hear her calling her younger sister to assist with the weighing. 

'So, how much useless stuff did you manage to take out?'

I don't have the heart to tell him. I shake my head and gesture weakly towards the kettle.

'As good as that?'

'She'll be out of the country soon. ... And so will the monster suitcase.'

We laugh and drink our tea.

.....................................................................

She did it. She got out of the country. Just as she'd planned. On the day she had chosen and she took the monster suitcase. An hour in the car with daddy (who moaned about all the useless stuff in it and the need to learn to pack light), an hour in the train, a minute of intense stress as the suitcase is set on the scales and the exact weight shows. Some hours on a flight, a landing somewhere far away from home, some more hours on a flight, a shuttle, a hotel, an other shuttle back to the airport, and an other one. And there she was. Happy as Larry.

We get the first videos in the early evening. Just as we are about to sit at dinner. Videos of how wonderful the world is far away from home. How nobody frowns at the amount of junk food she already has in her lodgings. Which sends baby in a foul mood. baby being alone at home with the parents now has decided to enter the moody teenage right there and them.

'That is soooooooooooooo unfair! Look at what she's having for lunch! And me? What do I get? Some stupid fish, all white, and some rice, and ... oh yeah ... so cool ... some vegetables! Green vegetables! This is ridiculous. I am so sick of this house and this family. it's a pure dictatorship!'

She leaves the room and slams the door.

'I know she's number 4 and we've done it all before. But. We're going to have to try and get baby under control. Or she'll end up being the worse one!'

'You might have a point ...' I am tired just thinking about it.

The videos keep coming which means Baby keeps complaining about this ridiculous state of affairs.

In this one she is showing us round her flat, the kitchen appliances, the bedroom and bathroom, even the toilets. And she opens all the cupboards.

'As you can see there are empty. So later on I will go shopping (her dad winces) and buy some plates and a pan. The others arrive tomorrow so they can get some stuff too ... glasses ... and stuff.'

'Miss Organiser ...' My husband says, looking towards the ceiling. I am thinking, is he reading my blog?

We have dinner and then a moment of quiet when we send Baby to bed and we have a moment to ourselves. 'Bleep' goes my phone.

'There. This video is for you.' I tell my husband.

He takes my phone and I think he is expecting to see his daughter shopping in a supermarket or something like that. He presses PLAY and winces again when the sound track's loud pop music starts. Then his eyes go to the ceiling again and he sighs loudly, looking ever so slightly annoyed. He puts on the speaker and turns the phone towards me.

'Hi dad! Look! ... It is really wobbly! And I have absolutely no idea how to fix it.'

I look at the images: an extreme close-up shot of ... a limp looking, definitely wobbly suitcase wheel.