Sometimes I get mad. Real mad. Super mad. Very angry. Most times, it’s not even the big things that drive me up against the wall. Nah. It’s the little things. When people insist on talking rather than doing. When someone does not do their work and I suffer for it by doing it on their behalf. There are times I get ticked off for a second. Like when my brother opens the tin of jam and leaves it open. Or when he leaves a completely clean kitchen littered after one food adventure. Or when mum keeps calling out my name while I’m on phone. Or when dad misreports something I did to mum. Or when my sister won’t sleep and finds all sorts of reasons to move around the house at 11pm banging doors and visiting the loo ten times. Or when my other brother decides to not do what I say. Yeah, big sister syndrome. I will shout. I will shout louder. I’ll make sure everyone in the house knows I’m mad,including the cats. But I forget I was mad a few minutes later.