The scourge of Georgia

Urgh. What I hate most about Christmas is that you have to go home. What's the big deal about being home for Christmas anyway? Oh well. Oh well. So home I am. And oy. I've only been here for one day, and already I'm trying to chew my leg off to get out of this trap. What makes home so terrible is that my mom and I do not get along at all. Not in the slightest.

Today alone she managed to wake me up a whopping three times. First she stormed into my bedroom at what is a god-awful-early hour in my time zone of choice, and informed me that I need to get used to this time zone. Why should I? It's my vacation. I therefore feel that it is my prerogative to be able to choose which time zone I'll observe. Isn't that a constitutional right or something? Poop. So to make up for this, it was of the utmost necessity for me to take a nap this afternoon. Twice she barged into my room (since she's started to use it to store her crap in. Like the whole rest of the house isn't enough space for her, she has to take over the closest thing I have to sanctuary here...). Then, to see if I was really sleeping, she proceeded to call my name in as loud a voice possible without actually shouting. Hurmph. Of course, I pretended to remain asleep, despite the impossibility of that, because I didn't have any overwhelming urge to interact with her. Quite the contrary.

Of course, she's convinced that I must be sick. Why else would I sleep so late in the morning (NOT late in California) or need to take a nap? Hasn't she ever heard of jetlag? Next thing you know, she'll be claiming it's depression making me so tired, since I won't have any physical symptoms. She already thinks that the reason I don't like her is a character flaw, though, to my credit, she's willing to attribute it to a chemical deficiency. That must be it. I'm sure that if I had more arsenic in my diet I'd have a much sunnier disposition when at home.

Finally, I managed to get out of the house this evening. It was nice to be able to go hang out with an old friend. I really wouldn't mind coming home if it weren't for the whole family part. It's always great to catch up with friends you haven't seen regularily in years, and my town is actually a pretty cool place. Not that I really get to take advantage of that, since I'm entirely immobile when I come home. My mom's a car snob to the point of being extremely obnoxious. She refuses to own an automobile that has an automatic transmission. Which wouldn't be so bad, except she also adamantly refused to teach me to drive stick. (though now she complains to me and claims it's my fault I can't go anywhere when I'm here. She really wants to be able to send me on errands. To all you future parents out there, having slaves is NOT a good reason to reproduce...) She also makes lasting judgements on people's characters depending on whether their car has a manual transmission or not. She actually had the gall to tell me that Jed should really be dating my sister, and not me, because he drives a Honda with a stick shift. This apparently makes sense inside her foggy little brain.

So anyway, I finally managed to get out tonight. Upon my return, I learned that my mother has had the locks changed. Without telling me. Then she got really upset at me for waking her up when I couldn't get into the house. Sheesh. For what purpose did she get the locks changed anyway? They were perfectly good locks, as far as I can tell. We've had them as long as we've lived here, so why change them now? Unless there's something she hasn't told me, no marauding criminals possess copies of the key. Although, were that the case, I think I'd rather if she not tell me. Not because it would scare me or anything, but because she always tells her stories in slower than real time, and I can think of other ways I'd rather spend an eternity...