It's a full house, here. Two people on the couch, two in one of the bedrooms, and one in each of the other two. There are computers littered throughout the living room, laptops on tables, a desktop on the coffee table. Blankets and pillows create carpet, perfect for tripping on. The hookahs (both of them) sit on the coffee table between the still full cups of rum and dr. pepper that lay forgotten because of a midnight power outtage. DVDs, cameras, spoons, a bottle of perfume...all of these have made their way into the setting that is this house. The girls have moved in now, their stuff lines the narrow hallway, pours out of an alcove, crowds the bathtub and the sinks. He has a little closet, for his one bag, while they take up half the house with theirs. The doors are always opening and shutting, dishes are piling up in the sink. Macaroni and chicken noodle soup are the meals of choice here, washed down with potent beverages served in dirty mugs or plastic cups. We're living at the edge of humanity at the moment. An impromptu gathering last night led to most of this commotion. People in and out, in and out, talking, laughing. It was awkward. His ex-girlfriend was there. I played nice and did a very good job. He woke up on the other side of the floor this morning, and kissed me on the cheek when getting out of bed this morning, a nice way to start the day. I haven't cleaned. I know I should have. Instead, I stood on the porch in last night's shirt and a pair of boxers, hair wild and tangled, makeup smeared, and inhaled the fresh air while swallowing Excedrin and a glass of water. Tuna fish sandwhiches are horrible hangover food. I don't know whose idea that was. The amount of chaos creates a fun atmosphere, last night I spilled coffee into the stove and had to clean it up with a bath towel that we found under the kitchen table. The hamper sits next to the kitchen chairs, the table piled with a tv, some empty packs, soda, a bottle or two, coffee cups, mail. No one sits there. That's just the way it is.
I have been driving Becky's car through Chicago. It's a wonderful feeling, driving around, knowing where I am, driving down Lake Shore Drive taking the boys to class and then driving back up to Loyola to pick up Emily. I love it here, and I am dreading my birthday. I don't want this little episode to end. Next year, everything will be different, and for now, I am completely comfortable. Why does it have to end in a few days? The boys leave Friday, and so does Emily. Becky and I leave Sunday.
I still don't know how I'm going to get my stuff home. Stressssss.......but it's already alright, I have a steady remedy; we're doing the same exact thing tonight.
