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Well, in the spirit of tradition, Thanksgiving turned out to be one of the most dysfuntional days of the year. You know, there's nothing like going home to remind me why I left.
You know what - instead of a big detailed post, let's just simplify this: I got home, fought with my parents, went to a movie, came home, went to sleep. Woke up, fought with my Mom, went to my grandma's house as our family's rep (again), came home, fought with my mom, went to my other grandparents where the whole family fought with each other, ate a lot, and came home and fell asleep. Friday I woke up, got into a big fight with Mom, went shopping, came home and fought some more, she left for work and called to fight some more, I packed, went shopping, and left. Came back to Chicago, got smashed, and put my X-Mas tree.
The condensed synopsis: We fought, we ate, I left.
There were highlights, though. Got to hang out with my brother for a bit before I left. Got along with him, and with my sister for all 56 hours, which is a new record. Also, I got to see lots of friends from way back when while I was home. I met Julie's little girl last night, and she's about the most adorable thing I've ever seen. And I got to make my asshole cousin feel like shit for breathing. So now I'm going to put away this fucking turkey and not think about this pitiful excuse for a fucking "Holiday" for another year. I've already decided - unless something major happens - I'm not going home next year. And I'm debating skipping X-mas.
You know what - instead of a big detailed post, let's just simplify this: I got home, fought with my parents, went to a movie, came home, went to sleep. Woke up, fought with my Mom, went to my grandma's house as our family's rep (again), came home, fought with my mom, went to my other grandparents where the whole family fought with each other, ate a lot, and came home and fell asleep. Friday I woke up, got into a big fight with Mom, went shopping, came home and fought some more, she left for work and called to fight some more, I packed, went shopping, and left. Came back to Chicago, got smashed, and put my X-Mas tree.
The condensed synopsis: We fought, we ate, I left.
There were highlights, though. Got to hang out with my brother for a bit before I left. Got along with him, and with my sister for all 56 hours, which is a new record. Also, I got to see lots of friends from way back when while I was home. I met Julie's little girl last night, and she's about the most adorable thing I've ever seen. And I got to make my asshole cousin feel like shit for breathing. So now I'm going to put away this fucking turkey and not think about this pitiful excuse for a fucking "Holiday" for another year. I've already decided - unless something major happens - I'm not going home next year. And I'm debating skipping X-mas.
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From:
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Thank you, honey. I actually am going to go back on Christmas. I'm staying three days. I've already told my brother that if it's the same way this time, it'll probably be the last time - I just can't keep doing it. Besides, I've said it before and I'll say it a thousand times more - that's not my home anymore. Chicago is my home now, and it's my life, and I like it. So I guess we'll see how it goes.
Thank you, though. *snuggles*