As far as I am concerned, the unpardonable sin is someone dropping by our house before noon on Saturdays.
Since I go to school and work too, Saturday is the only day of the week on which I can be lazy and sleep late. Therefore, I am late getting my housework done. By Saturday, my house is completely in ruins; anyone who is blessed with a six-year-old boy can understand what I am talking about. As an example, it is not uncommon to walk into the living room (and) find an old ragged sheet or quilt stretched across a couple of chairs—this serves as his tent. This is the exact time some people decide to come by to see us. As the visitors come in, I hurriedly snatch the tent down, but immediately wish that I hadn't for under it are Chewbacca, Hans Solo, Luke Skywalker, C3PO. And R2D2. Trying nonchalantly to push these Star Wars creatures aside with my bare foot, I suddenly stop. My foot has come in contact with some unknown substance—it is oozing up between my toes. I look down and silently blaspheme the makers of Green Slime. As I gently remove my foot from this green wad, some of it continues to cling between my toes. Pretending that it doesn't bother me, I lead our guests into the dining room, hoping it will be more presentable. Much to my dismay, it does not look any better, for there, on the table, are the remains of my daughter's midnight snack. The remains include a black banana peeling that looks like a relic from The Dark Ages; an empty glass with a dried milk ring; two stale blueberry pop-ups; and a pile of orange-red carrot peelings. My daughter is a border-line vegetarian, so the latter does not surprise me.