Дома

So, I'm at home. Hope that all of you reading this are as well, though I don't know how you'd be reading it otherwise, so maybe I mean that I hope that everyone I'm thinking of as I write it is also home (or in Texas) safely.

I wish that I had had witnesses to the amazing in-controlness of my father's car after being loaded with my stuff. After spending the past week totally surrounded by huge numbers of bags and packages and boxes and trash and random junk, in the hallway and in rooms and in cars and sitting out on campus, and in barns and in basements, it seemed like a certifiable miracle that I just calmly put all my stuff in a car and it fit easily in the trunk and them one layer of stuff on the back seat. It makes me feel like I forgot something, actually.

Got back to Frederick just in time (as in literally 10 minutes before) my brother performed his final skit for his high school drama class. We achieved this feat, making it home in a mere 7 hours and 30 minutes, by not stopping for any meals and speeding. Anyway, Jack was very funny and impressive in his role as Harold Hill, warning the citizenry of River City about the dangers of the pool table. I was pretty glad we only got there for the second half of the evening though- high schoolers in general apparently do not have very good taste in choosing monologues to perform, plus none of them were as cool as Jack, plus sitting in my high school auditorium is not my favorite thing to do.

Ate eggs and bacon and toast with strawberry jam for dinner. Eating in a kitchen is so pleasant. And the eggs weren't from a bag, and I didn't have to jostle for position at the toaster, and the plate was not a bold solid color. Later I ate cereal in front of the tv, that most homelike of activities. The Russian news were on. It was some lame segment about clothing design.

I would be going to sleep right now, but I can't find where I packed my toothbrush and such. I'm spending tomorrow throwing away everything I own. My dresser in my room is so full of clothes I can't open it. This is ridiculous. Clothes are evil and must be packed.

I feel like I should be making some reflective post about the year, but I'm too tired and distracted by the horrible quantities of my material possessions. But I think it was a good one. The year, I mean. I think I was surrounded by miserable people a lot of the time, so I feel sort of bad making a positive assessment. But it was good, anyway, in terms of actual education my best ever, and if it was not all fun and relaxed or even happy I was still so much more comfortable and in control of my life than I was freshman year.

There's a cat sitting on my bed purring, and it's just the level of warmth and humidity here that the night is comfortable and enveloping rather than sticky, and even if my floor is covered with bags I can never unpack I am going to rejoice in being home.