"House" is not a place, but people.
And as when (it's raining outside) you walk away from your home parenthood, you realize that you miss because you're gone in as before. The shirts do not stretch more miraculously by themselves.
The dishes are not lined up dutifully to the dishwasher as it once was.
the center of each room, opens a portal to the elemental planes of Dust.
Now you manage, dick.
It's not clear why this should give you a sense of freedom ...? Independence?
What is it, it must feel more adult, mature, wash the socks?
I thought growing up meant having responsibilities (series mean), and a more developed sense than the seat of a bicycle.
Yet, I understand that is not a big deal, but necessary. To overcome fears, to test themselves, perhaps, but for something dimostrasi. Whether willingly or not, we all know that having a mom and a dad, as well as a blow to ass (at least in my case) is also a convenience mica laugh.
So, I know that my four walls I did not miss much as the smile of my grandmother, my mother for something that breaks the bales, like my father who needs nonsisacosa. My bed will not be uncomfortable, but there will be Bongo in the morning and licks my face to wake up (without ringing, Callaghan).
And it's not the best year for work, for people I've lost, and for many other things. Therefore, it is necessarily the right year, that if you can now coglionazzo, even someone like you can say that half way.
So, I do. There, I said. I can not draw back.
But, Mom, tomorrow morning you wake me, I did not want to point the phone.
At 7 and a half, thanks.
-L.
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