I slip out of the car and immediately slip back into the comfortable viel provided by the notice-me-not, making my way up to the window of the house in question. Inside, I can see a small, redheaded girl standing atop a stool, working away at something on the stove, surrounded by a house that isn’t nearly as neat and orderly on the inside as it is on the outside. The furniture is old and worn, the walls noticeably discolored with one stain or another in a few places. It’s ratty, really, just like its owners.