Family is odd. Little bits of the worst and best of one another all mixed together into different combinations. It's so odd how the same gene pool can produce such radically different results.
I have Dad's hair, Mom's eyes, Dad's facial structure and Mom's body type. I have Mom's tendency for overemotional reactions and Dad's sarcastic yet playful nature. I have Dad's headaches, Mom's bad back and Dad's weak stomach.
I'm lazy, which is unique to me. I'm a reader, which is unique to me. I'm a dreamer, which is unique to me. When the rest of my family chooses math and science, I choose English and Social Studies. No one but me is so completely lacking common sense.
It seems to work out well most of the time.
That was a really long introduction into an exchange from the family Christmas party I had over two weeks ago and forgot to mention. After twenty minutes of explaining why being a manager is the worst idea in the entire world, Aunt Kathy and Uncle Greg finally got to the point of the whole conversation.
Aunt K: Don't ever be a manager, Jennie. It's the worst job in the world.
Me: Oh, I won't! I'm really lazy and I have no ambition.
Uncle G: ...
Aunt K: ...
Uncle G: ...it is good that she knows that about herself.
Aunt K: ...
For the rest of my life, I will always remember the look of appalled fascination on their faces. I'm going to treasure it.