Dramatic house is....Dramatic

"Peek-a-boo!"
"I'm trying to kill this!"
"Peek-a-boo!"
"I swear..."
"I want my chair back."
"It's my lucky chair, I'm winning!"
A look is given and much grumbling is followed, to the tune of "if I die it's your fault."
"Mewwwwwwwwoooooowwww!"
"You're not going downstairs, Mickey! Cut it out."

That was my house a one in the morning. Our African Gray parrot, Major, dancing around in his - covered - cage and singing, myself attempting to beat the P3P final boss, my mother throwing me out of the recliner, and my cat trying to escape all the insanity by going downstairs and only contributing to it.

And yes, I did beat the game, thank you for asking!

How my dad sleeps through the chaos is beyond me. How do I? I live in the basement, so unless someone decides to do the can-can above my room, I can sleep through almost anything. You grow accustomed to it. I only have one sibling, my brother, but with so many pets - there's a dog and a second cat, too - it's like having ten kids running around the house some days.

And yet, I love it. I thrive on it some days, while others I have to go run around the block to avoid killing them all. My friends would wonder how I survive, except they both have a lot of siblings and so understand. Personally, I think they have it worse, because I can lock the animals up in a room or escape myself.

So...dramatic house is...dramatic!