I'm in the suburbs. Suburban hell. Suburban, midwestern hell. Suburban, midwestern hell, with my mother.
Everyone kept telling me that it's only for a weekend. Only two days. Well, it's been less than 24 hours, and I'm ready to be home. My brother is here with me, for which I am very thankful, but there are reasons I only visit my mom once a year.
I might not be as upset if my mother hadn't started chastising me for chatting online with Brit Boy last night, rather than talking with my family. Well, that was the first opportunity in at least a week and the last opportunity for me to chat with Brit Boy for the next two weeks or so, as he's buggering off into the mountains of some-such-i-stan in Central Asia. I tried to inform my mother of this, but she was insistent. So now I'm being a grumpy Gus. A pissy Peter. An annoyed Andre. I swear, I feel the urge to revisit my teenage angst and just turn on my iPod, start reading a book, and completely ignore her.
Dramatic?!??! Moi?
Oh, and I'm trying to put the final touches on a yoga fundraiser I'm organizing for next weekend, while I'm several hundred miles away. And it's so NOT working. Frustration level is high.
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