I Love My Family

I wouldn't trade living in the Reed household for a thousand dollars (any more than that, and I could afford to move out). In how many homes would you have the chance to hear "Come on, let's pray. I'm starving," and "I'm gonna spit on your toothbrush! I've done it before!" in the same day? Not many, I'll tell you that right now. So ends another day at Casa De Reed. It's so funny to hear my siblings fighting over the bathroom, even though we have another one less than twenty steps away. Seriously, I counted. Nineteen steps. Oh well. Life's never boring, even when you live in a small bedroom community made up of churchgoers and old people, as long as you've got material coming out the wazoo from your family. I don't think I'll be mentioning names anymore, though. They're great. I'm constantly hearing insults like "No one cares what you think, 'cause you're fat!" and "You're so dumb, you don't even know you're alive!" Scary, huh? The only group better suited for observational humor than my immediate family is my extended family. I could tell you stories about ice fights, first snow days, mysterious creepy strangers, family games, restaurant shenanigans, and much more, but I won't now, because... Well, I just don't want to.