home.
the toilet seat shifts in exactly the same way when you sit on it; my little brother still pees all over it, too. the dogs still bark at seven in the morning, cats still fight on the rooftop outside my window. my room smells the same; in fact, the whole house smells the same. they rearranged some of my photos and gave me my old stereo - my brother refused to surrender the one he stole when i left. i'd forgotton which cabinet the mugs were in, and my closet is full of my sister's clothes.

it's strange for this to be "home" now. it's strange to have a house full of people and pets and parents. it's strange to wake up alone on a queen-sized bed to silence. strange to be typing on a full-sized computer with a full-sized keyboard.

on thursday, we're leaving for the final family vacation - three weeks culminating in an eleven-day jaunt in montana. wish me luck.