Karen L. Altamirano Nieto
Bentson
Writing 115
28 April 2015
Description Essay

Many people would say that their home is a place where they enjoy spending their time because they can relax. Unfortunately it is not this way for me. The usual day at home for me consists of cleaning, dealing with crazy siblings, and college work. From the moment I walk in my house I am greeted by loud little voices saying, “Karen’s home!” My two younger siblings are sitting at the kitchen counter with multiple coloring books open, crayons everywhere, left-over food on their plates, and great big smiles on their faces. I look over to the left where I see a sink full of dirty dishes filled with scraps of food from the days before. At this point I am already dreading being home. I escape to my room where I can find some peace but shortly after my siblings come barging in. I can never have my own privacy. They start complaining about how one hit the other and about how one doesn’t want to share her toys. All I can think is, “I want to be left alone.” After I deal with them and send them off to their room, I turn on my forty inch Samsung Smart TV. I take off my shoes, change into my grey sweatpants, and white t-shirt. I think, “Finally I’m able to lay in bed and relax.” Wrong. Next door I can hear my mother hollering my name. I am forced to get up and walk towards the yelling voice. My mother is sitting up against her fluffy pillows on her large king size bed. She has the remote on one hand and a bowl of noodles in the other. Her large white cotton blanket is wrapped around her up to her hips. She stares at me sternly and tells me to clean the house. Her words come out like an order from a drill sergeant. My to-do list has now tripled! On top of my math and writing homework, I now I have to clean the entire kitchen AND the living room. My head begins to hurt because I feel so overwhelmed. As I look at the pile of dirty dishes once more, I cover my face in frustration. One by one I begin to rinse each dish with lukewarm water, removing the gunk left after each meal and placing them into the dish washer. The pans are the nastiest to wash. They have tons of grease all over, including the handle. The pan keeps slipping through my fingers due to the slippery, oily substance. My only solution is to cover the pan with soap and scrub it vigorously with a sponge. After completing the monotonous task of washing dishes, I move on to wipe off the stove and each marble counter. Each burner on the stove has a pan on it. One has beans, another has, what appears to be chicken fajitas, the third has a pot filled with water, and the last pot has boiling noodle soup inside. On the kitchen counter overhang, still lies the coloring books, crayons and plates left by my sisters. I shout their names so they can clean up the mess. It doesn’t take them long before they start to complain about how they don’t want to clean. I ignore them until they get the memo that I don’t care if they don’t want to clean. They are going to clean the mess they made regardless if they want to or not. Finally I can move on to the living room. First I grab a feather duster and begin to wipe off our black entertainment center. There is dust in every crevice.
Before I can move on to my next task, I am interrupted by the loud arguing between my little sisters. I can feel my blood rising in anger and irritation. Once again I am forced to solve another petty argument between the two, as I do multiple times each day. As I open their bedroom door I see my nine year old sister standing over my six year old sister, shaking her finger in her face and commanding her to clean the room. The youngest one immediately bursts into tears. I manage to get the situation under control and they begin to work together to clean their room. Now I can vacuum. The process is fast, yet tiring. My arm quickly gets tired from moving the vacuum back and forth, back and forth.
Feeling exhausted, I plop on my full size bed. My fury blanket feels so soft and comfortable, that is until I remember about the unfinished math and writing homework. I stare blankly at all the math problems. I manage to finish half and give up on the rest, at least for tonight. Luckily my writing homework is simple. I have to read five pages from one textbook and three from another. My homework is now complete. Feeling extremely tired, I get up to turn the light off. My stressful day has finally come to an end. Tomorrow awaits another demanding day, but for now it’s time to sleep.

Word count 862