I want to write a little about “Responsibility.” I know what you’re probably thinking, and I totally agree. It’s a horrible, ugly thing, isn’t it?

Looking after my brother, doing various household chores, cleaning up after myself, taking care of my dog…it’s just too much!

Actually, no. I take that back. Pretend I didn’t just say that. I know that having responsibilities is the price I have to pay for freedom…so I will stop complaining now. But seriously, being responsible is a huge pain.

I might be the only kid in my entire school that doesn’t have a cell phone—and I am not even joking. My mother’s reasons for not wanting me to have one are as follows: One, she thinks I break and lose things way too often, and two, apparently I’m not always kind to my brother. (He is obviously the favorite child and she basically just wants to make my life miserable in every way imaginable.)

It is possible that I may have made up that last little bit; she’s never actually verbalized that particular emotion in the way she has definitely done with the first one.

And on that note, I suppose I must grudgingly confess that I am hard on “things” and I do have a knack for, shall we say, “leaving things behind.”

And apparently, by dumping all my clean clothes into the dirty laundry just because I don’t feel like putting them where they belong, deciding to forget to scoop the cat litter, sleeping through my alarm for more than an hour each morning, and letting my room become “a disaster zone,” I have “showcased my irresponsibility.”

In other words, no cell phone for Abi.

I’ve begged and bribed and tried real hard to act like a complete angel, hoping that my mother will break down and just let me get a dang cellular device. However, together my genius parents have come up with what they believe to be a Brilliant Master Plan.

Basically, what they have done is picked the two things I am worst at and informed me that unless I do those things better I will not get a cell phone for Christmas.

Unfortunately for me, this happens to mean keeping my room “moderately clean” at all times and acting “civil” to my brother.

Doesn’t that sound excruciating? I mean seriously, what teenager keeps her room clean on a regular basis? And is nice to her obnoxious little brother (love you Jacob!) at the same time?

I really could do a better job with my room. Its state is definitely dependent on how busy my life is—the crazier things get for me the more my room begins to look like Greensburg.

It would probably take me less than five minutes a day to pick up my junk, but in the insane whirlwind called my life I have decided that other things are more important.

I suppose I really should treat my brother better, even if he doesn’t deserve it.

Have you ever noticed that it’s easy to love loveable people, but a lot harder to love people that don’t deserve it?

I’ve got some work to do…but hey, if I keep my eyes on the prize I could be texting by the New Year! TTYL.

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