The first nineteen hours.

I've been home for less than twenty-four hours and I've already avoided an encounter with an ex-friend in Wal-Mart. Luckily my mother has FINALLY figured out that I like to avoid people who, you know, STILL LIVE IN MONTROSS and warned me that my old friend now WORKS at Wal-Mart. It made me feel better about my life.

Here's another anecdote: My parents' house is one story, but it's very long, and my parents have this habit of just screaming at each other across the house when they want to relay messages rather than just walking down the hallway. (Maybe I should get them walkie-talkies for Christmas?) Anyway, last night, I overheard the following exhange:

"JANE TYLER." (Yes, my mother's name is Jane Tyler. Get over it.)

"WHAT."

"I'M GONNA GO SHOOT GROUNDHOGS, I'LL BE RIGHT BACK."

"WHAT?"

"I'M GONNA GO SHOOT GROUNDHOGS, I'LL BE RIGHT BACK."

"SHOOT WHAT?"

"GROUNDHOGS. I'M GONNA GO SHOOT GROUNDHOGS, I'LL BE RIGHT BACK."

"OH OKAY."


The end.


UPDATE: I posted that nine minutes ago. My father just asked me if I want to ride with him to Wal-Mart again.