I’m home today. Home, as in my parents’ house.
With a week off for Thanksgiving, it was a given I’d come home eventually, but my mom really pushed for the whole week, while ME was thinking more along the lines of just Thanksgiving. After much wrangling and mind changing–first it was Thursday then Tuesday, then I was taking the bus or train on Saturday, then my parents were coming to pick me up, then it was Monday, then it was ME and me in the car Saturday–I finally made it.
This week is like a vacation, but not. Sure, I don’t have to go to school, but I have two papers to write, and have to get up freakishly early to go to work with my mom (and doesn’t that make me sound like I’m 12 again?) in order to organize a drawer I left messy, and see all my former co-workers. I’m so looking forward to a chicken caesar salad at Papaya’s, but not the 6:30 wake-up call, or the sharing the bathroom with the parents.
My dad is still remodeling the downstairs bathroom, more affectionately known as mine. Without a sink, toilet, or even walls, I must share mirror space with my mom come Monday morning. I’m sure she’ll not like it at all, but that’s the price she’ll have to pay for my presence. I should ask to borrow one of her many robes, though, since it’s damn chilly in the morning, and I’ll have to traipse halfway through the house to get ready.
This afternoon I helped my brother pick up some sheetrock for his garage, and it was nice hanging out with him for a bit. We don’t usually do any of that, so it was…interesting. And I got to see my dog, who I’ve missed, even though I’ve only just finished fixing the things she broke last time I saw her.
I’m feeling really chatter-box like tonight, so hopefully the change in pace and scenery will be beneficial for the blog. As in, more posts this week than all of last month. Not like that’s a hard record to beat.
– “Right back where we started from,” Maxine Nightingale
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