Ch Ch changes
I'm home, er, I'm at my parent's house that used to be home. Some of my residue still hangs around, but it doesn't feel like home. It feels smaller. I felt almost claustrophobic wandering around the house this morning. (This comes from a guy who lives in a carriage house). It could be the clutter, I decided. Some of it is Christmas clutter and some of it is sister clutter. The former I could do nothing about, but the latter I picked up and organized a little bit, got some of the clutter out of the living room. When my mom realizes that I picked up things unprompted in her home she will probably have to sit down and gasp for breath. But don't worry, she will survive. It's not like I dusted or cleaned the toilets. I'm not drunk, I'm just a little claustrophobic. (I am not implying that I only clean the toilets or dust when I'm drunk, even though I suspect my mom thinks they occur with the same frequency.)

In an aside I am also trying to avoid the sass that gets me in trouble while I'm here. It's worked so far. So far being the three hours between plane arrival and bedtime.