From a description of my childhood home

In the middle of the house was the Pool Room. The reason for the name was obvious, since a pool table filled up most of the space. Two walls, however, were lined with glass-doored cabinets, and every attempt to actually play pool in the Pool Room was thwarted by the threat of pool cue crashing into glass. Mainly, the table was used for sewing and Barbies: its size and height made it perfect for cutting fabric or playing Barbie-sized football or golf games on soft green turf.

            And upstairs there were two rooms – Marie's Room and Lorraine's Room – where my older sisters had slept, before they moved away from home. Lorraine's Room now happily stored junk, and Marie's Room was my room, where I could finally stay up late, but found that when I did stay up late, I heard too many mice. But I still remember it as Marie's Room, covered in giant posters of Rolling Stones tongues and people in tight jeans. It was where one went to steal lipstick. And it was mine.