Nothing can bring you closer to your sister than a cheating, lying husband. I picked my sister up in New Orleans (hmm...what should I call her? How about Sulie). Sulie was the name she called all her dolls. It was Susan + Julie = Sulie. Well, I had packed up the house and got everything into storage including my Mini. I had said goodbye to the boys. Not sure I can write about that. It was one of the yuckiest times of my life. I had my company car that Sulie and I were going to drive to Tampa. We headed out the camp. The plan was to pack my things out there and then drive to Lafayette and put them in storage. By this time I was pretty much catatonic. We went to eat at the Mexican place we liked. I couldn't finish my margarita so I got a GO CUP! We got back to the illustrious camp and Sulie says, "I hate that daiquiri machine." John had a daiquiri machine like they have in restaurants. I agreed--it epitomized the whole drunken party Louisiana attitude. Sulie and I looked at each other. The unspoken sister speak happened. I grabbed a screwdriver and removed the back panel. Sulie expertly pulled apart wires and tucked them back into place. We plugged it in and pushed buttons. Nothing. We laughed as I screwed the back panel on. Sulie wiped away our fingerprints.
We sat down to drink some wine while looking out at the river. Sulie said, "I want to fuck something else up." I flung the remote to the outdoor T.V. into the river (Please forgive me Mother Earth for littering). Sulie threw every beer or wine opener into the river. We toasted after each keplunck. John had bought me a fancy salt and pepper set at an art show the month before. I found out he had gone with her. I placed the shakers on the bar and went to town with a hammer. We decided to leave the shards of glass. We went to bed. We had a big day ahead of us.
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