NOV. 20, 1964
Theme of the Week
By Sue Hewes
Sunday morning at my house is total pandemonium. To begin with, there is absolutely no organization to speak of. Everyone seems to do what he wants, when he wants.
The day begins at about 7:30 am, when my sister Terry leaves for church. She has a most aggravating habit of slamming the front door. This lets the remaining six members of the family know that she is leaving. With Terry gone, the house is laid to rest for at least 15 minutes,
At such time, three world destroyers (my brothers) quietly crash down the stairs to the mess h all (kitchen). Quite some time ago my mother decided to let the boys fix their own breakfast on Sunday and has regretted it ever since. When they reach the kitchen, things begin to happen. They toss pans around, break eggs on the ceiling, burn
Meanwhile on the second floor the sleepers are restless. My blood is boiling, but I just roll over and pretend that it is all a bad, bad, bad nightmare. My mother at this point can't stand it any longer and goes to the top of the stairs and screams. Sometimes my dear brothers even hear her. When the noise really becomes unbearable, my mom, my other sister and I wearily get up and trudge down- stairs to meet the enemy. We are met face to face with a disaster area (the living room). By the time we find the kitchen, there isn't much left. As I stand there looking at the remains, I get a numb feeling inside. This probably explains why I think it hard to find my breakfast appetizing.
After church the house is cleaned, which usually takes close to two hours. After a morning such as this, all of the world's problems seem minor. The only thought that lingers in my mind, as I finally relax, is, what next Sunday will be like.