A Morning in the Finch Household

You may or may not be familiar with my dear Finch family. Whatever your case, I highly recommend brushing up on your knowledge of them before reading on: http://jblog08.blogspot.com/2009/03/finch-family.html


I shall begin this next segment with the second-to-last paragraph of the first segment. So, don't be confused.

The Finch family lived in a modest home right in the very middle of Fanghorn Avenue. The downstairs consisted of a parlor, kitchen, dining room, powder room, and a small cupboard for the placement of articles of warmth from the cold in the winter, which was located in the passage. Upstairs (the steps leading to and from which were located next-door to the aforementioned cupboard), were four bedrooms. One for Mr. and Mrs. Finch, one for Greta and Evelyn, one for Edward and Victor, and one for guests when guests came, but otherwise for collection overflow on behalf of Mr. Finch, Mrs. Finch, Greta, and Evelyn (all of whom would have rather kept all of each collection in his or her room, but ran out). Edward and Victor, wanting to share in the equal subdivision of the spare room, collected odds and ends precisely for the purpose of storing when no guests were around. Edward heartlessly collected many ounces of dust lying around the house (causing Mrs. Finch to keep her sanity in check in the most mundane respects of furniture dusting), and Victor had the clever idea of cutting out encyclopedia articles which he thought he might read in the future when he got around to it, (of course, Mr. Finch was not of the knowledge of this defacement) and putting them in spare jars which Evelyn discarded when any particular culture grew too big for it. This resulted in Victor not wanting to actually read the articles because to pull them back out again would render the entire time reading a time spent smelling nothing short of the most awful stench in the world, which was impossible to wash out of the jars. There was also a bathroom up stairs which everyone shared, though everyone complained considerably of everyone else taking much too long in the bathroom doing various and sundry preparations and primpings which were necessary to the party concerned with doing preparations and primpings, but were absolutely ridiculous to all who were affected by not being able to use the bathroom at the time they wished to.

It was on one such a morning that Greta was taking an especially lengthy time in the bathroom, because she felt she must brush her hair out as long as possible in order for it to be as long and silky as possible. The day before, her friend at school had let her borrow a very expensive hairbrush, telling her that the only way for her hair to be perfect was to brush it consistently for at least an hour. The three other siblings were outside the door as well. Edward was wrestling with Evelyn, asking her why and for what absurd reason she should think that girls need to be first.

“Why, they take longer to get ready, of course! Boys can do it in five minutes flat,” she reasoned, stamping her foot in front of her to hold her place in line. She pulled the rest of herself up in front of Edward.

Edward glared. “But that is the whole point! Why can’t we just get ready first, since we take such a short amount of time, and then you girls can take your sweet time afterwards, minus the banging and nagging.”

“Because,” Evelyn stuck her nose in the air, “when you go first, you DON’T take five minutes...you take hours!!”

Victor piped up, “Why, Evelyn, we are only showing you what it feels like to wait. If you didn’t take so long, this demonstration would certainly not be necessary.”

Evelyn was shoved back by Edward, and then shoved back farther still by Victor, so that she was at the back of the line. She scoffed. “You boys are just wasting time in there??”

Victor shrugged. “I usually read; quite often one of my Guinness Book of World Records or something of the sort.”

Edward added, “One time I opened the window, climbed down the side of the house, went for a relaxing swim, played in the mud, and then I climbed back up and took a real, well-deserved, lengthy bath because this time I was really messy. I should do that more often...”

Evelyn’s jaw dropped. “You...!” she squeaked presently. “I’m telling mum on you!”

“I had to clean the floor, of course, too,” Edward continued. “That was a bit of a downer; anti-climactic and whatnot. But other than that, it was quite fun. And when I came out, you and Greta had fallen asleep in front of the door with your towels as pillows!”

Evelyn’s eyes widened at the memory, and she quickly dropped to the floor, crawling between her brothers’ legs to get to the front of the line. Victor cried, “No!!” and crawled likewise to the front. Edward, appalled at being pushed to the back so quickly, tried to repeat the action. Though he ended up toppling his brother and sister over, rather than making a clean sweep of things, he resumed his spot as first in line.

“I don’t want to be after you if you are going swimming again!” Victor pouted.

“Well, I don’t want to be after YOU if you are going to read a giant book full of nonsense!” Edward shot back. “I mean, you do it anyway, but it is an unacceptable bathroom behavior.”

“My hair takes longer to dry than either of yours!” Evelyn continued to protest from the back of the line. “I simply must go first, or I shan’t survive the day.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “What has hair-drying go to do with anything?”

“A lot.”

“What, then?”

Evelyn wasn’t sure, but it was certainly a lot.

Edward and Victor were laughing so hard at Evelyn’s failure to come up with a good argument that they did not hear or see Mrs. Finch ascending the staircase. She only wore her hats in company or out in public, and without them she actually resembled a normal human being. She glided over to stand, looking down upon her children (except for Edward, who was a little taller than she was).

Mrs. Finch did not demand to know what the trouble was. Instead, she said: “Your distant cousin Robby Arbuckle is coming to see us, and stay in the spare room.”

Upon hearing this, the three children froze, and even Greta (who always listened in with great ears for doing so, but never acted like she heard anything) poked her half-brushed head out of the restroom. “What??” The four demanded in unison.