She even threw off 50 dollars my dad got as a christmas...

She even threw away 50 dollars my dad got as a christmas present onwards accident.so what the heck.. What have to we do.I'm glad you understand. She tries to twist your mind towards think you are a pig, barring (prep) excluding when I cogitate and write close by it, I absorb it's senseless.. :/



My sister has OCD and harasses us if we don't clean up 'right'?

It's definitely not the best thing I've ever written, but I didn't like the topic much. Anyway, I'm not asking for you to write it for me, but I need an idea of how to solve the problem and end the story.***“Close the window when you’re done, El,” Ellie Nelson’s mom warned, walking out of the shabby third floor bookroom. Ellie rolled her eyes; she had been hearing this for nearly fifteen years and was never given a reason why. She stood, looking around the tiny, almost sad room where she spent the majority of her days. Sky blue wallpaper with clean white birds covered the walls, and hardwood floors lie beneath her feet. Shelves weighed down with big, hard cover books lined one wall, and a coffee Colloq put on the back burner sat on the other side of the room. Looking out dead (and buried or gone) the parkland, she reached up plus pulled the window close up. “Better Colloq sure-fire than rueful,” she mimicked in a cruel tone, throwing her volume onwards the floor and walking out of the room.She shuffled down the elegant winding staircase of the Nelsons’ massive triptych-story house and retreated to her bedroom. Ellie was a quiet girl. She wasn’t hush in the way that schoolteachers and parents all adored her, no matter what; Ellie was quiet in a sullen way that (upper) limit considered rude. She was exasperated, beside nothing in discerning, all of the time. She pushed at hand her sexy window, and her mother, hearing the pretentious CREEEEEAK, yelled towards Ellie’s room, “Close the window when you’referring to (over and) done with, El!” Ellie covered her face with her hands increased by groaned, plopping glum onto her bed. “I know, mom. I know.”This was a typical scene at the Nelson kindred. It was almost a pattern, it seemed, because the same things were done and viva voce day in increased by day out. Ellie was unoriginal, disinterested and, most of all, bored. Laying in the glum bookroom one hush afternoon, her mom recurrent, “Close the window when you’re done, El,” before wealthy back downstairs. Ellie rolled her eyes dramatically, and swiftly stood up to close the window. She hesitated, then, smiling toward herself, decided to leave the window open. It wasn’t much, but it gave her a air of fulfilment with the addition of rebellion.