New Vocabulary

I spend most of my time wishing I had gone to college further away from home than I do. Like, in Holland or Romania. Or one of the poles. But okay, I guess sometimes it's nice to be able to come home for a little lovin' when you get homesick 20 minutes away. Or when three of your four roommates have the flu. Or when you want a small terrier to cuddle with you on the couch. Or when you're out of quarters, detergent, dryer sheets and underwear.
I came home tonight for all of the above reasons, plus to see the most recent face lift on the house. It's an adventure every time I come home now, but most recently, I've decided that if someone dropped me blindfolded in any room of the house I grew up in, it is likely I wouldn't recognize my surroundings. I'm sitting in my bedroom right now and the sound of my fingers slapping the keys is echoing off my shiny new wood floors. Which, apparently, were hiding under the grass green shag carpet I had for 20 years. My mother told me someone offered to buy my bedroom set. I didn't really know I had a bedroom set. There's new carpet running around most of the house, a type called, "berber" which, to me, is only a funny word. I found new furniture in the room that I think is called the living room, but it's now one of those living rooms that you don't really live in because the furniture is much too fancy for humans. I think there is leather in there, but I've been too afraid to actually sit on it and see.
So, yes, it's nice to be home. It is home because it has the same rickety old mailbox and now fancy, but still scary basement whose steps I still must run up. And the snoring. Snoring definitely makes a house a home.