I Have a Sloth for a Sister

So where shall I begin?

Maybe with a disclaimer, just for my personal safety. For the record, it is in no way derogatory that I call my own blood sister a slow-moving arboreal edentate (meaning almost toothless, if you're curious) mammal that does nothing but attempts to finish chewing two leaves in its mouth before the sun sets... and rises again.

And if it helps, may I also emphasize that she got the lovely nickname from her husband, by absolutely no fault of mine.

Believe it or not, I actually find the term rather affectionate and quite darn cute. It never fails to amaze me how good my sister is in adopting such a surreal tempo. And pray, it is indeed amazing when you consider Ms. Sloth's most un-sloth-like past as an enthusiastic gymnast and athlete in her school days. Those were her golden days of many quick moves and nifty footwork. She could have been Ms. Puma then.

I'm not sure what exactly happened but somewhere down the line (after one marriage and many many pound cakes later), she morphed into what she is today - the human equivalent of a creature that moves so painfully slow that it may as well be in reverse. You'll have to watch her really closely or you'd think she stopped dead midway in her track. Meet her at the start of the day and you'd know what I mean. The true epitome of S-L-O-W.

To be fair, I not a quick person either. It probably runs in the family, where lazing around is a highly desirable pastime. It's just that my sister is at the more extreme end of the BUMMER spectrum. I've got a lot more to catch up.

To Yanni the most successful sloth in mankind and the glory of our family!