They strike when least expected, when one's guard is completely down and all shields are off. Their vicious tactics deliver their boisterous message extremely effectively: "You are not safe. Your life is not important. This is our world and you shall either bow down or face the consequences."

Sistersister and mum have once again decided to enact hostile takeover of my "Saturday." Sistersister needs a new batheing suite. Mum needs to brave the grand opening of Minneapolis' first IKEA [located in f'Bloomington next to the f'Mall of America... OY! the traffic.] We all are apparently going to be absolutely famished within a half an hour....

My planned "saturday" is in ruins. My wake-up-whenever, my maybe-get-some-coffee-and-write, my gotta-clean-this-room-to-point-of-shimmer&shine... all these blessed little things that make "saturdays" beautiful and mine... my hushed, li'l, introverted, reclusive world....

DESTROYED! HIJACKED! CORRUPTED!

a phonecall at 9am, a message left.

a message heard at 9.15am, a boy still in bed caught between asleep and awake.

another phonecall at 12.00, the sleeping boy answers.

...

whatever, i don't have time for this... i must shower and go shopping at places i don't want to shop, spend time away from all the swiffer gadgets waiting patiently in queue along the southern wall of my room, eat somewhere where i don't want to eat [sistersister is hungry for ... how'd she put it?... oh yeah, "STEAK! ME WANT STEAK. BIG SLAB."

ick. ugh. arg. and the like...

i must shower and make myself somewhat presentable.

[[damn them! damn them all!!!]]