the cup.

This one isn't really a personal story, rather one that unfolded before my eyes.

My mom has a cup. You know, like, there's always that one cup you use to drink water or something? Well, this was my mom's OJ cup.

First full day that Cousin is here, that's the cup she takes. To drink Coke. For breakfast. What the fuck? I know I'm unhealthy, but that shit is ridiculous. So, mom let's it slide. Just to make her feel comfortable. We can't have some shit go down on the first day, right?

Second day. Again with the cup. Third day, again. Before we know it, almost 3 months have gone by, and she's still using mom's cup. In all fairness, there was ample time to mention that it was someone else's cup and have Cousin get another, but then I wouldn't have a story.

Finally, a few weeks ago, something was done about it. One day, a conversation very similar to the following takes place between me and my sister in hushed tones, even though Cousin was a work:

Sister: "I took the cup."
Me: "What? What cup?"
"Mom's cup."
"You took mom's cup?"
"Yeah."
"I still don't --"
"Mom's cup that [Cousin's name] has been using!"
"You took the cup? Where is it?"
"I hid it. We're going to tell her that we think it's broken."
".....okay."

We relay all of this to my mom. Yes, it seems like a lot of work versus kindly asking someone to stop using a cup. But think about how fucking weird that sounds. "Um, could not keep drinking out of that cup? It's mine. For orange juice." Cousin doesn't understand this family dynamic! We have our things, but she would just look at us like we're fucking crazy.

But how would I know that if we've never told her? Because a similar event happened to me. Before this one. But I like that story more, so I saved it for later.

As for the cup? The cup is currently hiding in an unknown location in my mom's room. Cousin thinks it's broken.

Not a word has been mentioned of it since.