The newspapers fell on my sister at breakfast this morning.And I didn't do anything to stop it.Sometimes I have this feeling that I'm completely disconnected from my body, like I'm watching my life on TV or in a dream, and it doesn't occur to me until ten minutes or two weeks later that, hey, I could've done something. I don't have to sit in the audience and watch things fall apart.But that's exactly what I did at breakfast. I just sat there, waiting to see if today would be the day the newspapers finally fell. It was the "highs in the mid to upper 70s" pile that came crashing down. The newspapers are organized by weather report, and since it's almost June, Mom has been adding to the "highs in the mid to upper 70s" pile every day. Lately she's had to stand on her tiptoes in order to reach the top, and this morning-before she could even add to it-it was already swaying from side to side, back and forth. It looked like a Jenga tower right before someone loses, and today Leslie was the loser.I've known for weeks now that they were bound to come crashing down. It's why I haven't sat at the head of the table since spring break. The head of the table is the best seat in the house-it's closest to the fridge and, therefore, the fewest steps to the milk. Yes, I am that lazy. And, apparently, so is my sister, because as soon as I switched seats, she nabbed up my old one. I should have warned her not to sit there, told her why I'd changed seats. But, honestly, it never occurred to me.I thought about how the newspapers would probably fall on her head, and in cold, fatalistic silence, I consumed my cereal, morning after morning, waiting and watching. Excerpted from Family Game Night and Other Catastrophes by Mary E. Lambert All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
