On a Sunday
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I woke up this Sunday to my family's annual bitch-fest. This is something that happen periodically at my house. It is usually my mother fault. She is never happy with something about my family. I think we could win the lottery and she would complain about something silly like taxes. Usually, she gives us grief about how clean or unclean the house is. To be perfectly honest, she's not always wrong, but the way she says things just drives everyone up the wall. She's always patronizing and sarcastic, and no matter how many times we tell her, she always says, "well, you're also says rude things."
It does not matter how many times we tell her it because we feel the need to go on the defensive, she never listens. Its infuriating.
My mother starts the day arguing with my father. I roll over on my bed and try to get back to sleep. It was ten o'clock, and I like to sleep in as late as possible when I have the opportunity. Alas, I figure I would not be so lucky this Sunday. Defeated, I get out of my warm comfortable and go to the kitchen to eat breakfast. The kitchen is adjoined to the living room where they are debating trite issues. I know before I step into the kitchen that I will be roped into this conversation. I decide to enjoy my food while I can. I pour in cocoa pebbles into a bowl and add milk. I wait for the cereal to become soggy and my milk to turn chocolaty. When my food is the right texture, I start to eat. Its delicious, but I digress.