Having a house that was built in 1941, before there was a super-walmart, and therefore before there were super-walmart sized closets, causes you to be creative with storage. For instance, my rubbing alcohol is in my bathroom closet on the very top shelf behind my very heavy cleaning caddy. I put it, and all the other medicines, there because we don't (thankfully) need them very often. Last night, after our afternoon trip to the Y pool, my mom needed it for her ears. I groaned when she told me she needed it, because I knew where it was and I am lazy and tired and I didn't feel like digging out the step ladder from the behind the vacuum cleaner in the hall closet to get it. Right as I climbed onto the ladder my mom decided to thank me for my efforts by pantsing me for the second time that evening. I looked at her with the pj's around my ankles and used the insult I had been saving for such an occasion:
"your butt's so big, it unravels you underwear."
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