Time in our home is measured by what’s on TV right now.

New episodes of Jerry Springer equals there must be something better to do with my time on a weekday at noon.

FLICKER BY SALLY K LEHMAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 64

The permanence of objects has been disestablished at my house. Things can be anywhere at any time. The paintings fade in and out of the walls at will and the books gather themselves into towers with no general theme or order. My toothbrush has vanished completely—I’ll have to buy new.

I have too many pairs of shoes and too many single socks.

Food seems to be multiplying and molding at an alarming pace, the fridge becoming fuller every time I open the door and I can’t decide if I should attempt to eat the leftovers I can’t remember leaving over. The sink is making dishes dirty and collecting them in precarious piles. I fear the cat litter box and shelving units will evaporate one day.

My twin daughters have blended into one another to become one equally small but significantly louder version. They talk twice as fast, eat half…