Dad and son look very comfortable as they pour over the paper on a lazy Sunday morning while Mom works away the morning in the kitchen, pausing only to pass small plates filled with fried or baked treats to her smiling husband. Each small disc of food bringing her one step closer to madness.
Later, tired from a day of cleaning she will sit in this very living room alone, nursing a cocktail and asking herself, “Why so much orange?, before falling asleep on the uncomfortable chair that she now despises and repeating the process again and again. Until suddenly it is 1990 and time to redecorate.
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