They’re Trying to Kill Me

Do you see that wooden bin at the bottom right corner of this picture? That is their shoe bin, and it has more than enough room for all of their shoes. Yet they still somehow always end up in a pile directly at the bottom of the stairs threatening to trip me up every morning. 

Maybe they’re trying to kill me. Maybe they suffer from the same genetic disorder that their father has that causes him to toss his laundry on the floor directly next to the laundry basket. Or maybe, just maybe, they are 10, almost 8, and 5, and I will miss this annoying little hazard one day.