So, I’m home.
I’m living real lazy, lounging in my messy room with all kinds of odd and ends I don’t quite know what to do with, so I stack them in catawampus piles along every wall of my room. I call it organized chaos. My mother does not approve of this mess and I’m almost expecting to see an eviction notice tossed on top of all my clutter. My room smells a bit like a stuffed up nose, and I have yet to change my dirty jeans this week even though there’s an ever increasing rip around the left knee. Oh well, I’ve been far too occupied sleeping ‘till sometime after eight and making to do lists – only to accomplish nothing.
So far, I’ve spent my time singing – out loud – in the shower, grilling blueberry glazed salmon, and stuffing my face full of ice cream while watching every Audrey Hepburn movie with my mom. My left arm has been sore, covered in Band-Aids from vaccinations for every disease except New Jersey, and every night I’ve stayed up late like I’m still in college, making felt tip pen drawings in a Moleskine sketchbook, thinking, mapping out the next year in my mind, while listening to Joni Mitchell sing “California.”
Wednesday, I spent all afternoon wandering aimlessly though the Salvation Army thrift store off Route 1 and at the movies watching “The Muppets” with my two nieces and nephew. It felt like being a kid again and when Chris Cooper started rapping, out of the blue, I almost lost it. Being home is like reliving my childhood. It’s a good thing I only have twenty four more days of this, because any more and I probably wouldn’t want to leave this life. Even Robin Leach would be jealous.
