Home, sweeeeeet beautiful home!

After being away for nearly three months, home brings many realizations with it.

1. I own a shit-tonne of stuff.

The amount of stuff that I have crammed into my >10’x14’ room is borderline unbelievable. Couple that with the basement crawlspace, one section of which is devoted entirely to housing all the things I’ve accumulated over the last handful of years in anticipation of moving out.

Much of the things are home things, like decorative stuff, art, and textiles. In this way, I’m totally my mother’s daughter, and a textbook Cancer.

I’m not, however, my mother’s daughter in that there is absolutely no cohesion to any of the things I own. At all.

If something meets any one of the following criteria, I will buy it:
-if it’s a bright colour
-if it’s many bright colours
-if it’s black, white or grey
-if it’s silver
-if it’s gold
-if it’s shiny or sparkly
-if it’s glass
-if it's metal
-if it's wood
-if it's old
-if it’s an interesting conversation piece
-if it would look nice on a bookshelf
-if it’s a miniature version of something
-if it’s an oversized version of something
-if it would be fun to take to a party
-if it’s BC Lions merchandise

This theme continued while travelling, and of the above list only one criterion did not come into play while abroad, which is obviously the Lions criterion.

So what did I do?

I bought Olympiacos stuff instead.

So now I’m tasked with finding homes or storage for all the new things I’ve brought home. The biggest undertaking will be for the smallest items, as I bought a royal inheritance worth of jewelry and I have no idea where it’s all going to live. But hey, I’m unemployed! I have time for stuff like this now.

When I finally do move out, I’m going to have go the museum route: paint the walls stark white, throw everything in, and pretend that I meant for everything to be completely disconnected from everything else. It's art.

2. I have a shit-tonne of clothes.

And oh boy, am I excited for them! After three months of one pair of jeans, one cardigan, one sweater and a rotation of a half dozen t-shirts and three scarves, I’m ready to be a real girl again. Wearing the same dozen pairs of underwear for 80 days is a travesty. And when you’re gallivanting around the planet, seeing how much amazing stuff there is out there, your boring clothes make you feel extra boring. I don’t like feeling boring.

3. I am not very good at planning.

I had intended for all my laundry to be washed, folded and put away before my departure. As I quickly ran out of time before I left, things like normal adult responsibilities got shoved aside.

But seeing as how I was employed then, and I am unemployed now, it’s not like I don’t have the time to do it all now! So I guess I am good at planning.

4. Dogs are jerks.

I'm gone for nearly three months (4.8 dog years to be exact), and Jack is more excited to see my dad than me.

Edit: 80 days is not 4.8 dog years, it's 1.53. How I screwed that up so badly is beyond me. But still, more than a year? And all he did was sniff my shoe.

5. Bacon is no more delicious after not eating it for three months.

Because bacon was already at maximum delicious, that's why.

6. Your own bed is so amazingly luxuriously comfy after a three month absence.

Seriously. It was heaven.