Challenge 45: Fake Nails

227. The 100 percent perfect

When one gets bored, she needs to do something innovative to stimulate her brain. Therefore, when another boring day of my holidays arrived, I wanted to turn it into something completely energetic and lively. Of course, with my sister also enjoying her winter vacation alongside of me, it gave me an opportunity to do something much more interactive and fun, because in matters like these, my sister can think very fast.

We both bite our nails, which I know is a terrible habit because it makes my fingers look ugly and they even start to bleed sometimes. Nevertheless, my nails have never been longer than a few centimeters before I chew them off to bits. Earlier that week, we had visited our cousin sister who had a bunch of fake nails sitting on her dresser. My sister's eyes flung wide open when she saw these and asked our cousin if we could take some home. Being the sweet sister she is, she told us to knock ourselves out. And now, there they were, sitting on the table of my room, painted clumsily in bright red paint by my sister. We sat around the short, round table, deciding who was going to try them on first. Being the eldest, I used my I-a-older-than-you-so-I-get-to-go-first tactic to claim the first try.

Human beings are reckless sometimes and so were we when we applied some superglue (and they mean super) on my short, uneven fingernails and carefully placed the fake nails on top. After we were done, I held out my hand for both of us to observe the result of our excitement. There they were, my hands, looking like they had been grabbed right out of the Fairytale book with an evil witch. We ran to our mother to show them off. My mother, giving rise to her childishness, acted scared and powerless beneath the sharpness of those fingernails. We danced around a bit, took some pictures with the gleaming, red nails, and decided that it was time for my sister to put them on.

However, we hadn't realized how strong the glue could be. As I sat there, my hands soaked it water, tears of pain started to gather in my eyes. I tried removing the nails, but they were stuck so strongly to the fingernails that they refused to move. With a little push and pull, I got through my four fingers. Because of the little nail paint that was left from a long time ago, they came off fine, removing just a layer of my fingernails. Horrified as I looked at my thumb, the last of the remaining, I heard my sister laugh. She giggled and snickered, her hands clutching stomach and her eyes tearing up with all the laughter. Words streamed out of her mouth along the lines of, "A minute ago, you were show them off. Now look what happened: you are suffering. That was a really stupid thing to do, Nanu. Thank god I didn't go first." I became even angrier after she said this and tried my best to ignore her. She continued to laugh at my supposed "stupidity."

It finally came off in the end along with a layer of my thumbnail, which was really painful. After the pain had settled, I realized what a stupid thing it was for me to do. I joined my sister and we continued to laugh our heads off. Then, at that moment, I realized how perfect this situation was, the 100 perfect perfect, where we were both having so much fun. I realized the importance of being a sister, of being mean to her but at the same time laughing along with her and indicating that I was just teasing and being ... well, an elder sister.

Challenge 44: Home

243. Describe the perfect home.

I wake up at around 8:30 a.m., take a quick peek at my watch only to realize it's too early to get up. I throw back the covers and try to fall back asleep.
My sister is snoring next to me. Irritated as I am, I can't help but notice the way she clings to me, with her arms thrown over me like she can't let go.
No matter how many times I tell my father the dangers with the covers over his head, he still prefers to do so. As I try to catch up with the sleep that has long left me, I think about the long hours he spends at night, trying get this done and this sorted.
My grandparents, who live on the topmost floor of the house, are early risers. They get up so early in the mornings that it is still dark outside with the stars gleaming pitifully in the distance. As my helper makes them both some hot tea before heading off to college at 6 in them morning, my grandparents offer their prayers to the heavens, hoping for peace and prosperity in our larger, extended family.
My mother has woken up far earlier than me, taken a quick shower, changed into fresh clothes, and already performed her ritual puja for the day. She heads into the kitchen, ready to make breakfast for the family.
My brother, being a bright child, has woken up at the wee hours of the day. Whenever I sleep with my brother and mother, his screams and demands in the mornings manages to knock the sleepiness right out of my head. He gets ready for school and my mother rushes him outside to catch his little white van.
This is how another ordinary day starts at this perfect home of mine. It is simply perfect for its harmony and coherence. It is perfect because everybody lives happily, under one roof, as a single united family. Once everybody gets home after leaving for the day, whether it be for school, for the organization for the upcoming family gathering, for some deposits in the bank, or for office work, we all have our dinners and warm ourselves up next to the heater. My grandfather is a tough, strong man and refuses to waste anytime by the heater, and instead, prefers to go up to his room and get some work done on the long pedigree chart he is working on. However, my grandmother is rather energetic and chooses to spend her time with the rest of the family as she watches my brother play and destroy one thing or another. My parents catch up on the day's events as my sister and I fool around. If there is load shedding, which is when all the lights are out, then we gather even closer to the heater, sharing jokes and stories with each other and just enjoying out time together as a family.
This is how a perfect day goes by at a perfect home. I love my family just the way it is: ordinary and perfect.