Not again

My dad woke me up this morning at eight because we’re going on a week long vacation to St. Simon’s Island in Georgia. I freaked out upon looking at the alarm because I thought I’d be late to camp and then it hit me again that camp is over and I went back to bed. I woke up fifteen minutes later because Sophie was whining about God knows what, so I pulled myself out of bed and packed my backpack with books I probably won’t read, and got in the car. We took two different cars which was a great call by my parents because it means I didn’t have to be with either of my siblings who are riding in the Prius with my mom and dog, Rosebud. My dad and I took the Volvo and were on our way, but Sophie, who was whining about breakfast at the moment, made us stop at Einstein’s. When we stopped there, mom told me that I was her favorite kid right now, which I understood well because my sister is going to spend three more hours complaining about stuff. In the car, we talked about the republican debates and enjoyed a bonding moment over how great Donald Trump is. I fell asleep for the rest of the way there, waking back up only once we went to the Winn Dixie for the most exciting moment of the trip thus far: picking out lunch. Getting to the vacation house I learned that I’d be spending the next week sleeping in the same room as my brother and sister which made me literally want to vomit. In addition to the heat, humidity and ever-present sensation of being in the Bible Belt, the WiFi didn’t work which means all I can do on my laptop is summer homework. My mom and I took a walk to the bike rental place but on the way I twisted my ankle and then our cards were declined because we didn’t know how to verify the out-of-state charges over the phone. Back at the rental house I went to the bedroom to do some work and relax because God knows I needed to. A couple hour later my mom walks in and sees someone’s pile of tissues on the dresser and asks if they’re mine, with an accusing tone. “Definitely not mine,” I tell her. Solitude is a comfort when it comes to family vacations, until dinner when I was forced to be with my family. My sister immediately started complaining that we were eating steak because “it’s cannibalism.” Shortly after she exploded because she wasn’t allowed to get her hair colored so once again I made a hasty retreat back to the room to avoid conflict. I would not allow myself to be caught in the middle like some sort of Belgium. The rest of the night was devoted to learning the ukulele.