Things You Notice When You Go Home For The First Time

Recently, very recently, I got to go home for the first time in almost approximately three months (off by two days, doggone it!). And I spent a week there. The same thing probably happened to a handful of you wonderful people too, though from the sound of it, weren't as fortunate to spend as much time being home as I did. I'd like to courageously extend a congratulatory proclamation of scoreboard in 3, 2, 1: Scoreboard. Don't worry, it's over and not much more of that will happen. I don't think. Yeesh, this has gotten weird, hasn't it?

There were just some things that I noticed upon my return to home. Some were new and some were just reassurances. Nothing terribly complicated just some stuff that hit me square in the face like some kind of savage slapping animal. Maybe a platypus? They've got slappy looking tails. Wait, no a beaver. That's the animal I was thinking of; they're more traditional in that sense. So here are some things

(Warning: if you don't care for or have any knowledge about the Dallas-area or Colin County-area then this may bore you to tears at some parts. Not all, though.)

Whataburger is still delicious. I only got to eat it twice, but I made it count both times.

Your bed is ginormious. When I walked into my room for the first time, I was a little taken back by the size of my bed. I take that thing for granted way too much. I'm sorry bed, can you ever forgive me? Of course you can, you're a bed.

DVRs are magical! It's true. After being DVRless for this amount of time, it's amazing that there are still episodes of Louie and Children's Hospital waiting for you.

Scotty P's grilled chicken tenders are still the only kind of grilled chicken tenders that you ever need to concern your pretty little head with.

Luigi's can still make a Chicken Parm that steals my Italian food heart. I got a craving for it while watching The Sopranos last night. It hurt.

A gallon of milk really is the first thing you should see inside of a refrigerator. Not a half gallon or whatever the hell size I buy in the dining hall.

I can still make a pretty mean omelet. And I don't mean to toot my horn here, but damn. I'll give you the recipe some time (no I won't. It's mine!).

Half. Priced. Books. Although, I've come to accept the fact that there really aren't any around here (Chicago) and that I can actually find better deals some times at record stores, I still love you. I do. I really do. Where else am I going to buy The Assassination of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford and BioShock at the same time for ridiculously wonderful prices? Amazon? I don't think so, plus I'd have to wait for delivery.

635 looks like a friggin' nightmare. There are areas on that thing where I think a cilivization of Mole-People could rise up and start taking over Dallas, slowly but surely.

Public Transport is essential. Get on it Dallas, because The Dart trains/buses don't count in my book.

At large family gatherings and get-togethers, be prepared to answer questions, because you're the farthest one away in the most known city.

Also expect comments about the weather.

When you're out for your morning jog, your neighbors still seem to suck, or suck even worse than you remember. If you're like me, you did a lot of "hand-going-up-to-waive-then-realize-they-don't-or-won't-waive-back-and-have-it-go-through-your-hair-like-you're-some-kind-of-cool-beat nick-or-a-jock-in-high-school-circa-1997"

The laundry room is darker, because a bulb went out. That one was more for me than anyone else.

The TVs at home are like IMAX screens compared to your computer and the one in your dorm room.

Your mom and dad will react the same way when you talk about your Christmas Atheism  It's usually a gasp, only because they're hearing the two words that don't really go together. Your response to their response is usually giggling.

Late at night, when you're playing Super Smash Brothers Melee, you're way more prone to curse than usual, because Yoshi is a little [insert fun curse word here].

You're bathroom counter is way lower than you remember.

I'd like to give a shout-out to ceiling fans, because they're great.

Your intestines' immunity to Mexican food goes back to normal after the first two consecutive meals.

The people at Ojeda's really did remember who I was and were pretty darned enthused to see me, and why shouldn't they have been.

I still have a lot comic books I need to read.

If you find that there are no razors in the house, it's apparently okay to use one that Alex Wilgus left behind about four years ago (no rust, I checked).