Once I found father with his head in the sink fast asleep. I tried to wake him and stop his incessant snoring but he wouldn't budge. Thankfully there was no water in the sink.
Whenever we had visitors over mother would give me strict instructions: watch the guests at all times. Any signs of drowsiness usher them out the door. Prise china from their lips, grab cupcakes from their hands. Send them on their way.
I had gotten the knack of noticing even the slightest sign of sleep.
One day I called, "mother." but she did not reply. I climbed the staircase. Looked in on my sister who was asleep with curlers in her hair. A sweet clean smell was in the air. Spring perhaps. I went out onto the roof and found mother curled up asleep in a heap on the roof. A swirl of pink blossoms encircled me and I began to feel drowsy. I tottered precariously over the edge. What about mother? What about my own safety? I pulled myself together and entered the house, stumbled down the stairs, out the front door through the garden and walked forever.
Later I visited the library. Research was in order. Time to solve the puzzle of our sleeping house.