People keep asking me what it's like being home.
I don't know what to tell them.
It's not bad, really, but not good either.  It kind of just is what it is.
I was expecting it to be both bad and good, but it's really not either.
It has, however, only been four days.
I miss my friends, and I miss being productive and having endless things to do.
The perks of living in a big city.
And now I have mountains of crap all around my room from LA and Gordon and Jersey...
I think I'm sick of moving.  Packing and unpacking only to do it again in four months or less.
I miss the consistency of living in my parents' house.  One address, one zip code, one bedroom to myself.
My mom is turning my bedroom into a guest room this week.
I'm officially a guest in my parents' house.
So weird.
It's time to watch a Christmas movie and pretend I'm still young.
Goodnight, friends!