Quaint

I was originally going to continue my slightly stalker-ish investigation of Pleasant Rowland today, but I was interrupted by a certain 12" doll as I typed away like a maniac about how AG should eat a pie.

"Whatcha doin?" Meg sat on the desk. Her question sounded like, say, the Annoying Orange, or, more so, that little annoying girl who always has her Brownie troops surrounding her in the wink of an eye from Phineas and Ferb.

"I'm writing something, Meg. Go away, please." I sighed impatiently.
"What are you writing about?" She sounded genuinely interested for a second, but then covered her interest with an indignant snort.
"Nothing, Meg. Now GO." I spun around in my chair and pointed to the door.
"No. I want to know." Meg looked me in the eye.
"Not gonna happen." I slammed the laptop shut and walked out of the room.

Meg followed me.
"Have you seen my room yet? Huh? Huh?" Meg poked annoyance at me as we walked down the stairs.
"No." I lied. In truth, I had been stealing peeks at it all week. It was a work in progress. Grace had taken this huge styrofoam box, and filled it with quaint little Pullip-sized furniture and items. There was this quaint little dresser with a mirror, and this quaint little portrait of Meg and her best friend Celsiy, and this quaint little chair with a huge pink and purple butterfly on it, and a quaint hooked rug the size of Meg with lots of little squares of different shades of pink. And there was quaint little yellow walls and a quaint little tea set with its quaint little teapot and quaint little cups and quaint little plates.

And there were even little erasers made to be food, in the shapes of rice with chopsticks, ice cream cones, pieces of cake, chinese food take-out boxes, and even soy sauce. It was sickening.

Meg giggled. "Want to see it?"
"NO." I walked faster, forcing Meg's littler legs to fail to catch up.
I speeded away out the door, out to the backyard.


It was all so.. quaint.

-Sonali