I have lived in the house I live in for about 7 years now, and once I think of all the rooms in the house a story comes to mind. Whether they are good stories with joy and laughter, or bad stories with pain and yelling. These stories are my house’s history, just like every human on earth. When I think of the of my room, I imagine the sleepovers that occurred. These usually involved someone getting really mad, because pranks were pulled on them. Once when my brother was asleep in the room with my friend Tyler and I we put hot sauce on his lips, and he woke up with his lips burning all mad at us cause he didn’t know what was going on. That was a good night. When I think of my living room, I remember  having a bunch of friends over at like 12:00 at night, and we were all having a baseball tournament on the x box. We were constantly being to loud and my parent kept coming in the living room to tell us to be quiet. Those were the good old days when we didn’t really have to worry about high school or    jobs. My favorite tradition we have is on Christmas eve when we go to our older brothers room and sleep in there. This is because at our old house when we were moving away from my old house, we had no beds so we had to sleep on my sister’s floor. Like humans a house has memories.