Roommates

I walked downstairs on a Saturday night, and my parents and aunt and uncle were taking their blood pressure.

I'm home.

Apparently this is how they spend their weekend nights-taking their blood pressure with an electronic machine until they get a number they like. My dad acts as if his is perfect, omitting the fact that he's on blood pressure medication. So basically, he's not perfect; the medicine is just working. Instead of just rolling up his sleeve, my Uncle Kevin was half shirtless as this went on.

Moving back home has had its good and bad points. Mostly good. I come home from work every day and have a home-cooked meal waiting for me: salmon, steak and lobster, pork chops, chicken, etc. It's so nice to walk in the door after a nearly 90-minute commute and not have to worry about what to make for dinner. I'm still getting used to all the questions from my dad: "Where are you going?" "How much money are you depositing in the bank?" " Who called you on your cell phone this morning?" (Answering the last question is better than him actually answering my cell phone, which has happened many times). Then he can't hear the answers, so it takes two more times to repeat what i just said. It's also hard to have all my stuff in one room. I have a storage unit that's holding 90 percent of my stuff. But it's hard to have just every day things and papers confined to my bedroom. I've made a conscious effort to try and keep my stuff just in my room to avoid the notorious fights about my stuff being all over the house.

I've lived on my own since I graduated high school. So almost (vomit coming up ...) 11 years. But the temporary situation is worth it to save money, be by my family again and have dinner made for me every night.