I've got to get out of here.

I love my parents and all, I certainly don't mind the free food, but I've got to get out of here. I can't live here, I can't be here for this long. Esp. now that Himself is taking time off for the holidays and the Moms is on break, being employed in the school district. The television is always on, my room is always so small, the dog is always being talked to in odd high tones, Himself is always undoing his pants to sit down [well, now that he got new and improved lounging pants of remarkable size for Christmas, undone-pants-lounging will probably be less frequent]. There really isn't any place to sit in this house, either. AND I'M NOT LEAVING FOR CHICAGO UNTIL MONDAY.

In other news, I realized I could never be a monk because there are certain genres of people who I absolutely cannot stand to be around and it would be just my luck that I'd probably be in a small monastery with at least one such person. I've read Thomas Merton's journals, it's inevitable! But, quite fortunately for me, I happen to be the sort of person who really ought to be married [at least, according to Woman].