There’s No Place Like Home

There’s No Place Like Home

My dad is trying to download a new version of Real Player and his under water themed desktop is making under water bubbling sounds. While I’m attempting to type this post, I’m listening to him get frustrated (which is a crack up because he doesn’t swear), a commercial from Real Player AND the bubbling of some under the sea desktop creature. Now, he’s sighing big sighs and calling himself “a dummy” because his pc froze up. Something about his start button not working. (See, this is why I have an apple.)

My mom is nearby with her nose in a romance novel. Every once in a while she stops reading to yell at my Dad. The strong scent of pineapple assults me from the folds of the heavy drapes behind me. There is one of those puff machines hiding on the window sill, it’s supposed to mask the scent of cat urine. My mom says the smell is lemon but everything is pineapple to me these days.

Outside I can hear dogs barking at someone walking down the street. Maybe a some kid walking down to the drug dealer at then end of the block. When the dogs stop barking, I hear the waterfall of fish water from their 45 gallon fish tank in the living room that needs filling up. The four cats of the house are perched on various piles of laundry, boxes that need to be shipped back, bags of garage sale clothing and the futon that I will be sleeping on later. (If I can find a clear spot on the carpet to spread it out on.)

It’s always good to be back. It makes me appreciate my own home more.