Sisters

What the heck is with these people called "sisters?"  Full disclosure: I have two. I can no more relate to them than I can to the two lobsters I'm about to plunge into boiling salted water. 

They are both successful in their careers (I'm speaking of the sisters, although the lobsters DID come through in a pinch), have families, appear to know how to run their lives, so what is the mystery? Must be hormones or something.

It is different with big brother Buzz - we think alike. We agree on tasks needing doing, but he thinks a tad more about actually DOING the things while I simply dial the telephone numbers of "people" who will do the stuff.

But sisters. My Sainted wife has two. When they come to visit, things intrude: I give up my perfectly set-up bathroom to them, while I try to divine what on God's green earth my wife was thinking when she organized hers. Toilet seats (for reasons that still escape me) must be down at all times. What evil lurks if they are too unobservant to put it down themselves? Then there is late-night popcorn involved. Popcorn?  Find one guy who eats that crap late at night. It's Doritos or starve. 

Buzz may be a royal pain in the "why are you just lying there on the hammock" type, but if I defer long enough, he does all the work.  

Life is sweet. So are sisters, however inscrutable.