My Sofa Serfing Sister

I came home early for lunch to talk to Katie, and there was no yelling. Okay. There was lots of yelling. But, I’ll just give you the gist of what happened. You can interject all the whining and high pitched squeals, and the “This is so unfair, you just don’t understand”s you want to.

Essentially, Katie thinks Newcastle is stupid. She hates living with Dad because he’s “so intensely lame” and up in her “business”. And she heard she can go to Scottish Unis for free, so she’s going to live with me and go to Dundee. Maybe the Arts School. Like fuck she is.

I tried to explain several things. Such as: Scottish Unis are only free to people living in Scotland (she didn’t believe me because, as she put it, ‘I saw the Referendum on telly. Uni is free’), DJCAD is a really good Arts School and it’s difficult to get in (to which she responded, ‘oh my god. I can’t believe you think so little of me’), and she’s not fucking living in my house. No room. And I don’t want her here. But at least I didn’t tell her that.

Her response, ‘[HP] said you were moving to London, so when you move all your shit out, I can live in the box room.’

Right. The shit in the box room is HP’s. If she’s not at Uni, she can go fucking live with mum and help sort her occupancy issue, and…well…she’s not living with me. I’m calling Dad tonight and he can come get her.

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