Journal

Whenever Sister comes visiting all the way from the other corner of the city, I have an obligatory assignment of cleaning up the floor I live in. She doesn't like it when things are scattered and lying around. She likes it organized just the way I keep my folders and files on hard disk. She doesn't like me keeping the books that I've been reading lying half open on tables. She uses a bookmark instead (only when I frown lying that I would be having a hard time finding that page back again), and tucks them away in the book shelf just like she tucks the clothes away in the cupboard.