you CAN go home again, just not to live...

Oh, home. So many fond memories I have of you. The place where I come and I don't have to cook or clean or really, well, function like a normal adult. Once or twice a month, there's nothing I like more than coming home to visit my Granny and Pappy and having someone ask me what I want for dinner, or waking up and getting in the shower and coming back in my room only to find my bed made so beautifully for me. (I, for one, am still struggling with the mere point of making a bed in the first place, I'm just going to mess it up later that night anyway, right?)
So yeah, like I said, home. I know how fortunate I am to have people who love me so much and la dee dah, but let me tell you, I'm not sure if I'm going to make it through these next few months. I chose to move home for my last semester of college because I don't live too far from campus, and if I have any hope of paying for grad school without selling my soul to Satan in order to do it, I needed to steer clear of rent/utility/grocery payments. So here I am, home, where the heart is, where my family is. Where my privacy was sacrificed, where I can't leave a piece of clothing on my bedroom floor without hearing about it for three days, and I have to be careful coming in too late at night for fear of waking up two 12 pound schnauzers with barks as screechy as nails on chalkboards. Where no one knows what it means to "knock".
Like I said, I know how absolutely fortunate I am, please don't get me wrong. But because it's me, and I can see the positives and the negatives of virtually anything, I have to bitch. I can say one thing for sure, never have I appreciated the value of my very own domain more than I do right now. I may have paid out the ass for a rental home in Btown (because it's what they do to those in college), but oh thank the blessed Lord for a space that's all your own. Even if you have to share it with roommates, far be it for them to tell you how your room should look. There are common areas, sure, but your room in a home where you pay an equal share, well, it's all yours. There is something so liberating about that. You could mess it up to your heart's desire and so long as no one shared that very room with you, and no strange and unusual odors emitted themselves into the common areas, it was yours to tear apart and then put back together. I most definitely took advantage of my ability to be a complete slob.