01.27.2003 - 11:09 a.m.

I'd completely forgotten that yesterday was the Superbowl. I'd planned to finish my laundry, maybe do some writing or a puzzle, hang out with the cat. I have too many things going on in my life, and it was time for a downshift night.

Enter the roommates' Superbowl party. Enter the alcohol and the people and the one woman with the laugh that just scrapes across the inside of your skull.

I don't need a lot in the way of "home." I don't get homesick. I don't really care where I sleep, although I do sleep better if it's in the same place for several nights in a row. I don't bother cooking, I don't often clean, I really don't much care.

But it is my personal concept of hell to find myself playing host to a bunch of random people I don't want to meet, and it is nearly as bad to be trapped in my room in order to avoid them. All I want from a "home" is a place where social interaction is entirely voluntary. Or, you know, some advance notice. Can't wait to be solvent enough to make it so.

-stonebridge

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