Lazy Sunday

I've spent approximately three hours today outside of my room or, as my Mom calls it, "The Cave."  As a naturally lazy person, working a nine-to-five job five days a week does not allow for a lot of schlumming around time, so that is what I save Sundays for.

Or, what I intend to save Sundays for.  This particular Sunday started with my mom walking in my room, without knocking, at 8:57 am.

"What are you doing?"
"What?  In bed, I'm not up, I don't know."
"I hope you don't plan to spend all day in here, I have things for you to do."

And by "things" she means clean out my old room as I am currently sleeping in my sister's room because of the larger closet and not-twin bed.  She moved into a new house with her boyfriend a couple weeks ago, the lucky bastards.

For us poor and single kids, living at home is the only real option.  At least until the glorious month of August, when my friend and I plan (pray?) to move into an apartment closer to Boston, where there are no overbearing parents interrogating me about my destination when I get up to go to the bathroom.  I mean, come on.

I somehow managed to avoid doing my mom's list of things (hee-hee) today, and the three hours outside of my room were spent at lunch with my parents, sister and her boyfriend.  We went to a restaurant my parents haven't been to since before they were married - twenty-eight years ago - and they spent fifteen minutes arguing over whether or not the entrance has changed.

I ended up putting my iPod in for the car ride, something I haven't done since I was fifteen and decided I wanted to be a rebellious, angry emo kid or something.

So now I am back in The Cave, painting my nails and listening to my nerdy Doctor Who soundtrack, counting the seconds until tomorrow when I can go to work and spend the day listening to the complaints of crazy parents who are not mine.

See you tomorrow,
Liz.