wake up to someone shoveling outside. god my house has the thinist walls. had some scary nyquil-induced dreams. actually glad to be awake.
still in bed, i listen for telling noises: my parent's shower is running. i hear my mom's voice in the kitchen.
i rush out of my bed and downstairs, as i've put two & two together and figured out my dad's in the shower - got to get something to eat before he gets out. i push aside the nagging thought that i'm really fucked up for constantly planning my in-house actions around avoiding my dad.
i get to the kitchen. molly's up. she groans when she sees me.
mom says, "you want to go to target with us?" molly groans louder. i say, "yes."; rush to get ready.
we go. mom looks at converse brand plaid shirts at target, molly at home decor. i stand there wondering why the hell i came. again. molly and mom look at eyelash curlers. i find a book- another nicholas sparks one (great). i stand around some more. i get a frappacino from the starbucks and ask mom if i can wait in the car. i go to the car with my mocha-frap and turn on KS95. depressing song is on. i wait. they come out of target after 10 minutes with a mountain of home decor: molly's fav. she's pms-ing so my mom is trying to pull her "out of her funk," as she says, by buying her shit. i start the CR-V's engine. mom asks if molly wants a jamba juice. i groan. we drive home. my dad is standing in the kitchen, mouth open, staring off into space (looking like a retard, but really listening to the sport-talk-radio that's on.) i groan again, run up to my room to blog.
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