I'm home. The TV is on tonight's network news, and I'm typing away at my laptop on this makeshift desk/dinner table. The reporter is doing a piece on a new website where girls can write about guys who cheat on them, thereby warning other women about him. They go from person to person in some fancy Los Angeles bar asking seemingly random people for opinions, and I wonder what the point of this piece is. Perhaps it's time filler, or perhaps I'm just being grumpy because my house has been cut in half and I have to shimmy around piles of stuff to get to my room.
My house has been reduced to about three rooms because the entire downstairs is being slowly torn apart by a crooked subcontractor who isn't getting the cabinets and counter tops as soon as he promised. The walls, the floors, everything's been ripped out, exposing either the planks that used to be walls, or the dusty cement below. Everything that was once down there (dozens of blankets that filled our storage, entire racks of coats, some pieces of furniture) has been crammed in every nook and cranny upstairs. This includes my room, which basically leaves my bed as the only place to sit, what with the center being occupied by our old kitchen.
Luckily, it will most likely be done by the end of the month. March the 31st -- The day I'm going back to school. Meanwhile, the Kahlua/Kilusan line is having some kind of group dinner back in Riverside, hopefully having lots of fun. It is one of those times where you miss out on some joy, so to deal with it, you sit in the weird uncomfortable melancholy of your home and blog about it. That's what blogs are for, right?
This is going to be my Spring Break when I'm at home -- or at least some semblance of it.