I turn the lights off, you turn them back on.
I close the refrigerator door, you open it back up.
I return items to their original places, you move them.
I leave the toilet seat up, you fold it back down.
I vacuum the carpets, you immediately imprint your feet where I stopped.
I lock the door, you unlock it.
I turn the TV off, you turn it back on.
I recycle the newspaper, you bring it back out.
I make dinner, you order takeout.
I unplug, you plug back in.
I sketch, you erase.
I say one thing, you argue against it.
Today, nothing happened.