Whenever I see a problem, I do my best to fix it (that is, unless it requires any actual work or thinking, in which case I avoid it at all costs). But regardless of the fact that I have a father who happens to be a carpenter, I have a tool aptitude equivalent to most species of tree moss. However, petty details like that do not stop me from making claims of being able to construct a nuclear stealth bomber, entirely out of plastic swizzle sticks. It is perhaps that same attitude that got me in to the mess that shortly follows.
It was not too long ago that my mothers best friend from high school came to Green Bay from California (Only God knows why) and brought her two daughters (Guys know where Im going with this). Anyhow, she was staying in the guest room while her daughters would stay in my sisters room, for two weeks. I didnt think much of this, until she actually showed up one day. My mom called me out to the living room. I was quite busy at the time with some important matters that could simply not be put off (Ms. Pac-Man, level 18). So after the fifth yell, she came into my room, pulled out the controller cord and threw it out the window. It was almost more than I could take to have to watch poor Ms. Pac-Man be helplessly devoured. Rather appalled, I followed my mom anyways. I walked into the living room and immediately the Beach Boys began singing in my head.