I share a room at home with my eider te other. Our house is not very large. It has only three rooms, My parents occupy the largest one, my grandmother and my sister the medium-sized one-and my brother and me the tiniest one.
The room is only twelve feet square. It is just enough to put in two single beds, a desk, a cupboard and an assortment of other paraphernalia that youngsters keep. Normally our room is in such a mess that it looks as though a tornado has just gone through it, much to our mother’s displeasure. We try very had to keep the room clean bet it seems our cleaning-up effort simply cannot keep pace without Messing up ability. We are still trying.
My brother Bob, being older than me, has a -bigger say than me in most matters. He gets to use the most comfortable central part of the desk. I have to sit by the side of it and put my legs sideways before I can do my homework. He spends quite a time at the desk that was given to us by our uncle who once used it in his office. The desk is actually meant for one person. I am not the one. Nevertheless, I still get my work done. Obviously Bob gets his work done too, much more comfortably.
When it comes to the weekly task of cleaning up the table, it is invariably my job. Who am I to argue with a person who is physically much stronger than me. It is either mopping the desk or getting a red ear. I prefer my hands wet. At least it is not painful. I cannot complain to my mother. I will get the other ear red if I do so.
The same rule applies to clean up the beds arid the floor. I do most of the work. Bob does most of the ordering and commenting. However, both of us get all the firing from our mother.
One great disadvantage of sharing a room is that there is no privacy. Actually there is nothing much a youngsters have to hide except for some sweets and other edible stuff. Many times I thought I have definitely kept a chocolate bar or a sweet apple safely hidden from the attention of my brother only to discover that I was wrong. Bob definitely has a fantastic sense of smell or touch or whatever He has the uncanny ability to detect food wherever I have hidden them. So I have to put up with half a chocolate bt4.r and an apple with teeth marks on it. Some times I manage to give him a taste of his own medicine by scoffing the things he has hidden. Alas, justice is done for him quickly after he finds out. The inevitable punishment of ear-twisting invariable follows.
Ti1U3 tar I seem to have mentioned only some the pains 0; sharing a room with Bob. To be fair I have to mention some of the many pleasures too.
For one thing, Bob never hits me. Ear-twisting is standard “modus operand’. I am quite used to it by now. My ears are pretty we-developed to take any punishment.
The greatest pleasure of sharing a room is knowing that he is in the same room as you. This is especially comforting in times of stress. Waking up in the middle of the night from a nightmare can be frightening fee anyone. This fear quickly banished on hearing the sound of Bob snoring his head off on the other bed. Funny how snores can be welcome when one is troubled by bad dreams.
Listening to ghost stories or watching ‘spine-chilling’ movies can result in sleeplessness for some people. do not have such problems, not when I know Bob is there to keep me company.
I will never forget the many times he helped me with my homework, Bob is good at mathematics. ! am just average. With his help, I confess that I have improved a great deal. I would definitely be in trouble if not for his help.
At times Bob can be generous if he already has hao too much of something. I do get left-over sweets, half an orange, use paper and the guitar chords to my favorite songs. Though Bob is rough he is nevertheless loving. It just his young ways to order me about. It is also his human sense to be good to me when it is required, am thankful for a brother like Bob, What does it matter then, the pains or the pleasures of sharing a room with him?