It's Sunday?
After a good bout of despair and weeping, which hopefully marks the end of my adjustment to home period, passed out on the living room couch again. Had a really cool dream about being the principal dancer in some lavish dance production put on by Hiram. I was just completing my final on mixing rum and coke when I heard my brother's voice:
"Amber"
"Amber, I know you're just pretending to be asleep. Laura Smith is at the door, go tell her I'm in the shower"
Damn my brother. For some reason, he acts like a real putz and still I do things for him. I realize I could tell him no, but I'm awake anyway and might as well. So I stumble to the kitchen door, where stands a blurry buff highschool girl in camoflauge. I squint at her, and tell her that i'm supposed to tell her that Don's in the shower. I then turn, and walk back to the couch to put in my contacts and actually wake up.
Minutes later, I hear cars pulling up. At this point I get excited because maybe Mom is coming home. But no, the caravan is in fact carloads of camoflauged teenagers. I had forgotten that today Don had scheduled his epic paint-gun battle. Argh. I stumble back to the kitchen to get something, anything to eat, and on the porch the hoardes are gathering, all with weapons and one large CO2 canister which intermittedly hisses as they play with it.
"Uh, don't go out there Amber" Don warns, as he steps out decked out in black and white camo, with some sort of holster at his hip. Cute kids. Ironically or not, if this was some other decade most of them would be old enough to actually be in war. Even more ironically, perhaps, is that if I dated a freshman this year, I'd be dating someone my brother's age. Whoah.
Ok, so for now I think I'm past the depressed and bored period of my arrival home. It always happens this way. I need to go shopping of course. But now I'm adjusted, and hopefully Dad and Liz (my sister) have just walked in with food. Now my life is complete.
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