Today is the day that my mother decided to start cleaning out the house. A relitivly simple job you would assume, but that would be dearly incorrect. Now my mother is not a hoarder with room after room crammed full of junk from ceiling to floor. With 7 kids its kind of hard not to collect a ton of stuff. The rooms that we use day to day are pretty clean aside from the occasional lost shoe in the kitchen or the random pair of pants that is hanging off of the shower head. Todays conquest was to be My room. The attic.
Not only is it the place of my dwelling but it is also home ( or at least one side of the room) for every single frickin toy that we have ever owned. Baskets of Hot Wheels, Buckets of barbies. Countless baby dolls that have been cared for, written on, made up or held for ransom, All stored up there. Today is the day that it was all getting pulled out and organized. Or at least that is what my mother said. I was not interested in anything but another hour or two of sleep. That hour or two never happened.
Up down up down up down. My little brother and sister thundered their way up and down the stairs along with my mother carrying box after box in to the living room. Lights going on, doors slamming. There was nothing I could do but get up.
So much for sleeping....