Home Again, Home Again...Okay, Everytime I Come Home It's the Same Title

One paper down, two more to go. Well, four more if you count graded revisions, but whatev.

Since it's Easter weekend, I decided to take off work and come home. Apparently my parents now own a NordicTrack. Which they've had for "well over a year." Never mentioned it to me, once, and I've never seen it, which is...I mean, NordicTracks are HUGE. I don't know how this happened, but it's very expressive of my new relationship with my family: estranged and vaguely embarrassing let's-pretend-it's-not-ours child. But I got to work out on the NordicThing for a while, and that was fun. So much more boring than running; I almost cracked a book open and tried reading, but settled on staring at an exposed nail for a while instead.

And now I'm waiting for my younger brother to scrub out our tub, the tub that has steadily become en-caked with his boy germs for the last who knows how many months since I've been gone (apparently "well over a year," by the feel of things) so I can bathe in it. Bubble bathe in it. Maybe even with a candle or two for atmosphere, mmm. And then there is a chocolate Easter rabbit waiting for me in the kitchen; waiting to be steadily nibbled away until he is just one small, disgusting little nub of maybe-this-is-chocolate that I don't think anybody actually eats. Some people lose it under the couch, other people lodge it in the back of their fridge for a few months until it fuses with the old tortelini and becomes some jellied congolmeration of ew, and probably others just look at it for a bit and toss it into the garbage. I think I'll do some scientific testing on my nub this year. Science seems to be pretty in right now.