I'm home. I have a feeling that is going to mean a lot of blogs for all of you. I hope you're prepared for what such an eventuality might entail. I can't promise they will be interesting or humorous. And, judging by previous posts, that could mean for very sorry reading indeed. But I never claimed to be a writer of any repute; after all, my degree is in critiquing writing and as they say (whomever "they" are) those who can't, critique. I'm not sure I agree with that, actually, but I digress.

I thought I would open up with the fun that has found me here at home. First off it's snowy and cold. While cold comes early to Illinois, it never snows here until January. I would complain less, as we all love a white Christmas, but it is supposed to get up into the 40's this coming week which means most of it will melt away leaving a sludgy, slushy, grossness behind. That means I went through an annoying plane ride, a slippery drive home, wet feet and coldness for nothing. I find that irritating.

Once I arrived home I discovered that the bathroom was in the process of being remodeled. It has been in the process of being remodeled for going on a year now. But then, the house has been in the process of being remodeled going on twenty-three years now, so really one shouldn't complain overmuch about the bathroom. Regardless, there is no sink in the upstairs bathroom. That means that while one can use the toilet, one will have to either go downstairs to wash her hands or use the shower. Also, all the stuff that would normally be in the bathroom is now outside my bedroom door making the walk from the stairs to my door, especially with my luggage behind me, an adventure the likes of which Indiana Jones might embark upon. All of this adds to the feeling of being home I have to admit. After all, most of my childhood was spent in the comfortable smell of wood, drywall, paint, and caulk so really this just brings me back. I should also mention that we still don't have heat upstairs and it looks like there might be a sink in the bathroom before I leave so really, things are progressing extremely quickly by this house's standards.

So that is how things stand for me. I am enjoying the cold and the snow, I will admit, but, strangely, I find myself pacing the floor after only a day. Normally I don't start pacing until two or three days have passed. I think it's because in Vegas there is always something open, even if you don't want to be there, and you could always go for a drive. Driving right now would be silly because of the ice, so I'm pretty much stuck where I am. I don't feel claustrophobic, though.

I bring that up because I mentioned previously that the mountains on all four sides had promoted a sort of claustrophobia in me. I didn't realize it until the drive home from Peoria, but claustrophobia is definitely the feeling. I have examined it further, however, and it isn't just because of the mountains. It is instead because there is no where to go. You can drive out/through the mountains, but it will be five or six hours before you get anywhere. And when you drive, you have to have a full tank of gas, some water in the car, and a charged cell phone, just in case. It's these things that make me feel hemmed in. When living in the desert you aren't supposed to be there. Nature doesn't want you there. Instead you are living in a man made environment and you can't just walk out of that unprepared. Simultaneously this environment is quite hostile, I've never worried for my safety as much as I do in Vegas. And so you can't leave, but it doesn't feel good to stay. The result, unsurprisingly, is claustrophobia. All that space and I still feel enclosed. I believe that counts for irony.

So I'm poor but I'm happy. I'm cold but I like it. I'm bored but it's restful. That sounds like an Alanis Morrisette song. In fact, I think at least part of it is. Perhaps I will watch some more Beauty and the Beast. Not the Disney version, but the t.v. show from 1987-1990. And I have to say, as Vincent is a man, genetically at least, it can't be considered bestiality. I mean, he's got hairy, clawed hands, but one could shave, or put gloves on them. Or just not use his hands in places where extreme hair and sharp claws would be unpleasant.

Last night while watching an episode with my parents Vincent gave a speech about how they could never be together or some such nonsense, not because he's bestial and she's hot, but because his world is underground and hers is above. I responded quickly that that was crap and my mother accused me of being unromantic. I don't think so. After all, Catherine could totally go underground on the weekends and Vincent can come above ground at night--the only reason they're apart is because they don't want it badly enough. Is it unromantic to recognize that? Perhaps, but if a beast loved me and was as sexy as Vincent (oh that voice, those eyes) I would totally be living my happily ever after not bemoaning our difficulties. Why is logic so unsexy? And what does it say about one's love life when they can't even get a beast to fall in love with them? Don't answer that. I'm going to go watch another episode, drink some hot cocoa, and pretend I'm so much cooler than admitting to watching that show reveals me to be.

But you wait, someday netflix will talk dirty to you and you will watch it. And then you'll understand...