“We spent all that money on raincoats for you two! You didn’t even take them to school!”
“We didn’t know it was going to rain.” Wasn’t that HER job, to say, “Take your rain coats it looks like rain”?
“Get in here. You’re drenched. Get in the tub.”
“Me first,” says your brother, knowing there are cartoons.
OK now that made sense. Come home from school with your little brother, you’re both soaked from the rain storm and she tells you to get in the bathtub.
“Why?” you ask.
“You’ll catch your death. NOW!!!!”
You both run to your rooms. You wonder what you’re supposed to do while your brother is in the tub avoiding death.
“Get out of your wet clothes!!” yells your mom. “Throw them down the basement stairs!”
You take off your school clothes and run through the house in your underwear, open the basement door and throw your dress, slip, and socks down the basement stairs. Now you’re more or less naked in wet panties. This is madness.
“Billy! Get out of the tub, dry off good! It’s your sister’s turn!”
You hear the water begin its journey down down the drain.
“Dry off good! Maureen, get in there.”
Dry off and then get wet. You’re cold now, but you were fine before. Shivering, you go into the bathroom, turn on the water and get into the tub. “Can I have bubblebath?” you yell.
“I don’t care!” she yells back. “Just get into that tub.”
Your brother passes by the bathroom door in his pajamas. His red-blond hair spikey from being dried with the towel. He makes a face at you as he goes by.
“Stop looking at me!” you yell.
After a while your mother yells again, “Get out of there and get dried off. I need you to set the table.”
Life is an unsupportable burden. First you’re in trouble for getting wet in the rain you couldn’t predict or prevent. Then you’re yelled at for not getting into the bathtub already peopled by your brother. Then you’re yelled at for being IN the bathtub. You heave a sigh reflecting deep world-weariness as you let the water out of the tub. You drag your legs over the side, take your leaden towel from the rack and endure the effort of drying off your skin.
“I’m coming,” you yell back.