Monday, December 27, 2004

Feh, holiday schmoliday ...

So I was stuck in Myrtle Beach all weekend. Really I only got stuck there yesterday, which was when I planned to come home, leaving me today as a wonderful, committment-free day off work to do with whatever I pleased. But as I was leaving MB yesterday I heard a report on the radio that there was only one lane open on I-40 near Raleigh and accidents all over the place because of a "wintery mix" of snow and ice. What? It was raining in MB and an SUV right in front of me had just hydroplaned into a 360 that sent him right off the roadway, but I just figured I'd take it slowly. So I called Mark, who had stayed in town with his mum, to ask what was up. What? he said. There's no bad weather here. Nothing had fallen from the sky, and it was just a chilly day in Durham. But being a sport he offered to go online, check out the situation, and call me back. Sure enough, I-95 around Fayetteville and I-40 east of Raleigh were supposed to be messy with snow and ice and full of wrecks. Since that was a large chunk of my route home I turned around and reluctantly went back to my mom's.

Not that I have anything against my mom, but her house isn't my house. There are no comfortable places to sit there. Actually, the living room is full of big overstuffed uber-comfy furniture, but my brother, who is living there right now, likes to plant himself in front of the TV and watch stupid crap like sports and shows about motorcycles. So I have to find somewhere else to hang, and all the other seating in the house is uncomfortable. I spent a lot of time scanning in old family photos, but mom's computer chair is a metal folding chair and it was really kind of a drag.

Plus I had to sleep on an air mattress, because even though mom has three bedrooms and a "bonus" room over the garage, there are only 2 beds in the house. When my aunt and uncle came to visit a few weeks ago my brother got kicked to the air bed so they could have the real bed. (It's not like he's paying rent or anything.) My mother really doesn't seem too concerned about her lack of decent sleeping arrangements (she has a fantastic bed for herself), and isn't in a big hurry to fix the situation. But she's always wanting me to come down and visit, and she's always asking when Mark is going to come with me. Should I tell her he'll come when she gets a decent bed for us?

OK, I'll stop complaining. Hope everyone else had a half-decent holiday.

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