The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans)
Sims player fourteen generation deep into a legacy. Here's their story! Also, art and builds.
So the first few days after Winterfest were a disaster for me. But I’m pleased to report, my brother was enjoying his gardening kit immensely. For weeks no one could pass through the entry hall without a whiff of fresh roses, or whatever scented flower he more or less managed to grow. He took it at heart, observing, and researching, and making us all wholeheartedly believe this was a career in the making.
Unlike his older sister, who had lost hers.
… One last goodbye to the relics I brought to the museum. We had a great time, old friends.
It’s cold outside, but I’ve missed the food stalls too much, and the sky is clear and bright, so I decide to go eat in the museum’s gardens.
For a minute there, I think this might be a perfectly amazing day after all. I have a nice chat with the colleagues, who actually look happy to see me, and maybe, with the new year, will come new horizons?
Yeah, no. Royal approaches, and the colleagues scatter like a disturbed swarm of flies. And right there, right then…
I get fired.
Welcome to my office at the museum! It’s underground, and no one bothers me here, including when it comes to letting me live in the mess that I deem necessary to my workflow.
Boxes upon boxes filled with styrofoam beads and whatever artifact me and some other museum are sending to one another; piles of books taller than my respect for some of my coworkers; portraits of long forgotten people by some talented but anonymous artists I aim to learn more about; replicas of statues from my travels — or sometimes, the original thing… If I had to list everything, we’d still be here by New Year’s Eve, next year.
The most important thing about it is, it’s warm, it’s mine, it’s my safe haven, and I enjoy working there.
And here we are… the Windenburg Museum. Used to be my favorite place in the world, and even now, sick with anxiety, I have to stop and marvel at its beauty under the layer of snow the blizzard has left behind. It’s still snowing, but here in Windenburg, the snow is now delicate, soft, magical.
For a minute I forget all about being anxious and everything is perfect again. How can you not feel at peace in such a landscape?
I think this moment, this exact moment, as I’m struggling against the wind to even cross the street in front of my house, hoping the cars can see me through the fog, is the first time I realize, I want to be able to choose if I want to do this or not.
In the meantime, though, I’ll have to keep bracing myself against the overzealous snowflakes whether I like it or not.
The morning rises on my first day back to work, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s a blizzard outside.
My house, our house, looks impossibly inviting. In fact, it looks perfect. But alas, I simply cannot stay in.
How I wish I could.
It’s 2AM and I can’t sleep.
Tomorrow I have to go to the Museum for the first day after the winter break, which The Boss made clear I was not allowed to miss.
The only thing that keeps me sane is the thought that no one can make me get out of my underground office if I don’t want to. I’ll just keep working there.
In the meantime, what does one do when one can’t sleep?
Study old vases.
At least it gives me the focus to stop my hands from shaking. I really don’t want to go.
Cyril also feels excluded, but he’s a teenager, that’s how he’s programmed to feel.
Mom and Gram are spending more and more time together these days. And it’s always the same thing — they hush the minute I walk in, they exchange glances that wouldn’t look out of place in a spy movie, but from what they’ll let you hear, or see from afar, it looks captivating.
If I’m being completely honest, I’m sort of jealous. I know Gram is Mom’s grandmother before she is mine, and I know that obviously, they had a close relationship decades before I could say the words “great-grandmother,” but still. I feel excluded, and excluded by two people who’ve cherished me all my life, to boot.
I also feel bloody curious.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 