longest day of the year

There's not too much going on here at Perils, aside from a certain degree of hedonistic behavior, full-on geek outs, and me never listening to those who say "Don't talk to strangers."

Being back in East Troy is a little disorienting, really. Everything appears disproportionate to what I remember. But yet, it's like I never left. I still work at the same place, I still can't stand my siblings, and I have that urge to run away as swiftly as I can.

Things are stable here, and stability frightens me. The only permanent thing is change, but change has no sway over this place. Mom's still nuts, Dad still can't walk right, Becca's still a moody emo kid. Books are scattered around, teacups and wine glasses everywhere, the wee beasties that you have to be sure not to trip over. There's stray bits of hay that get tracked in, and the pungent scent of cats and incense.