Gary is a red straw. The best Garys come from Sonic or Burger King.
I don't understand my brother's love of red straws and naming them Gary, but I don't need to.
So what if he has made a non-human, inanimate object a huge part of his life? It's not like he's carrying around a 9mm or a machete. It's a straw.
And yet, I am somehow annoyed by this.
I need to learn to be more tolerant. I need to work on being more accepting. I need to work on not needing to understanding the reasons behind my brother's wants, actions, connections.
He wants to carry around a red straw named Gary? Fine. Great, he should!
I mean, I still sleep with my husband's old tshirts so who am I to talk?