I came home for a week so my mom could see me. At first my dad said it wasn’t possible, then, after my mom didn’t talk to him for three days, he bought me a ticket.
A lot has changed since I’ve been gone. My parents bought a dog to replace my brother, who moved out a month ago. It’s name is Clive Owen, and it’s half lab, half lab experiment. It can jump freakishly high, and it has the ability to become incredibly annoying. Clive Owen spent most of his time outside, sitting by the door just out of my sight.
He’s a great guard dog, though. A couple of nights I came home after midnight and Clive Owen was so thrilled that he woke my parents up and then peed himself. Both true. My mom loves that dog.
I couldn’t come home late very often because my body refused to believe it was on vacation. Instead, it wanted to pretend that it was working a nine to five job, with a two hour commute. I would wake up at 5:30 and want to go to bed around 8. I get that that’s jet lag, but it’s obscenely inconvenient when all you want to do is eat Cheez-It’s and drink Coca-Cola at three in the morning while playing XBOX. I never made it that far and, sadly, I was only able to spend four hours repelling the alien invasion of Earth.
The strangest thing about my time at home was how similar it was to last year. I saw friends, had lunch and tea with friends, but mostly all of my time was spent watching Bones with my mom and dad. We watched almost all of Season 5 (Booth kissed Brennan, but she said she didn’t want a relationship –
are you kidding? not like I care). My parents, who don’t have cable, have Netflix, and have slowly been working their way through the series. My mom has even developed a “Bones Dance” that looks a little like the hand jive. During the credits of each episode she would do it with enthusiasm, and my dad and I would follow to appease her. By my last episode the dance had spilled over into the ending credits and morphed into this butterfly catching motion.