When I was growing up, I hated it when people came into my room. I had various mechanisms (er, behaviors) to keep anyone I was related to from ever coming for a visit. This mostly involved extreme bouts of crabbiness, threats of violence against myself or others, or sometimes blasting lousy 80's dance music. Come to think of it, I did this at the office today and no one came in. Imagine that.
A&P haven't discovered the sanctuary of their rooms yet. Other than the occasional "GET OUT OF MY ROOM" directed at the other brother, it's a fairly peaceful detente complete with a "cracked door policy." No one ever seems to mind that I've picked up the clothes in the middle of the floor (right at the edge of the basket force-field) or made the beds or whatever. I must admit, I take advantage of this and do my fair share of digging around in drawers and under the beds. The public service announcements on TV implore me to snoop. Who am I to question NBC?
Today, I really wished I was too dumb to dig around in their rooms. You never know what you'll find. Sometimes I find fistfuls of quarters or dirty socks from a baseball game last June. I can hardly tell you what I found. It's so ghastly. You will judge me. You will send me secret letters and comments judging me. I'm horrified, terrified and actually thinking about bringing in some help.
Do you want to know what I found? Is this killing you? Oh boy, here it is. I found...
A shirt that says "Perrysburg Class of 2015." What the Sam Hill is that? 2015 is like 40 years from now. Shouldn't we be living on the moon and flying around in hover cars? Shouldn't I have a robot rubbing my feet and injecting Botox in my crowsfeet while I type this?
2015? Shouldn't I be able to read people's minds by then? Won't we be growing food out of thin air and repairing ourselves with magic wands?
I can't stand it. It's going to be awhile before I snoop again- maybe Thursday.