Every time that I visited the White House there was something else there to annoy me. This time I kept tripping up on the rickety metal stairs. I also disapproved of my parents’ open house policy, which meant that the place was overrun with random vagrant teenaged friends of my nephew and niece.
My sister J tried to cheer me up by tidying my bedroom for me. Her strategy worked to a certain extent, but I was still not happy.