I don't wanna be home

We were so exhausted when we got home. By the time we got here it was 1:00am in Maine. That the clocks on the wall claimed it was earlier had no effect on my exhaustion at all. I colapsed into bed and managed to sleep for six hours. I am now awake and still wore out.

Coming home means returning to responsibility and heat. I am feeling unreasonable and cranky about everything. Of course I am tired: very, very tired.

He cleaned up the house: it is no worse than when we left. Things are mostly picked up. I think the carpet was vaccuumed. At some point in the last few days dirt in the kitchen was swept into a corner.

He did not eat very much of the food that I bought, which really is okay. I am fine with him living off of cereal and fast food. He is a teenage boy afterall.

He tries to reassure me about the house. He tells me that when he had friends over he locked my bedroom door and kept them out of the lower level, or at least kept them from getting into anything, and he cleaned up when the toilet over-flowed. The bathmat is in the dryer now.

He is not very good at the reassurance thing.

He does not want to tell me how many people he had over. You know, just some people. The house is fine.

Like I said, not great on the reassurance thing.

He got a job though. It is not the job he expected, but it is close. He will be working at one of the local grocery stores full time: 7am-4pm. Today he has to go get his pre-employment drug test. Convenient that.

Today we have appointments, and the grocery shopping has to be done (Evan bought us a half gallon of milk so we could have breakfast. He said he would have bought more, but it is hard to carry it in his backpack on his bike.)

Maybe I can go back to sleep. I am still SO exhausted. I don't want to be nice and responsible and grown up. I want to be lazy and watch the tide come in.

I have to stop writing. I don't even want to listen to this whining.

Back to bed.