Can't. Sleep. Books will eat me.

(December 26, 2006)

I want to go back to WVU now. I haven't been to the 'brook in a year, but my home is pretty boring already. Actually, it's not really my home anymore, it's my parents' home and, since I'm not a true West Virginian in spirit, I guess this means I have no home. And I'm ok with that.

For someone without a home, though, I seem to have a lot of crap piling up around me. You know how when you go back to your old bedroom in your parents' house, it seems a lot smaller than you remember it? My bedroom is so stupid. It's still got the oversized antique furniture I've always hated, but it's actually shrinking because every time I come home, I unload two or three boxes of books. This is becoming an issue because a) I'm developing middle-class consumer guilt, b) it's a constant reminder of how long I've been in school, and c) I have an obstacle course leading to my closet.

I wish my parents would empty the nest already. Every time I'm in town I hope to find my room cleared of all my stuff and reimagined as an office, an exercise room, or another guest room. Instead, it's apparently regarded as a halfway house for wayward possessions. There's an errant sink in a box on the floor. I've been assured that we're not white trash now, but there's a ridiculously Seinfeldian anecdote detailing the botched sink trade I haven't heard yet, so maybe my parents are engaging in a little plumbing racketeering on the side. Speaking of racketeering -- would you like to buy some books?