The following post is predicated on one simple fact: my sister is mean.
Catherine is wicked, tricksy, and false. When FANG! and I were little, we shared a room; considering the fact that both of us are now in our twenties and STILL cannot keep a house clean to save our lives, you can imagine what that room was like. My Barbies fought with his GI Joes which warred with our books which were constantly on the defensive against the shared matchbox car collection which…you get the point. We had a lot of STUFF! and we weren’t real particular about keeping it neat. Daddy pretended to care so that mommy wouldn’t kill him; mommy gave us many frustrated readings of the highly didactic The Berenstain Bears and the Messy Room. Both had zero impact on our cleaning habits. Nevertheless, we were a little ashamed of our messiness. We didn’t particularly enjoy making mom’s left eye twitch, since that eye twitch usually signaled a morning spent inside cleaning instead of a morning spent narrowly avoiding death outdoors.
Sensing our weakness, Catherine pounced.