observations

imagine:
I'm sitting outside on a beautiful, custom built, scalloped, patio overlooking a large, two-tiered expanse of grass surrounded by overgrown trees, lavender bell flowers, orange blossomed bushes, and a burgeoning vegetable garden of tomatoes, summer squash, and zucchini. A tray with coffee and two perfectly toasted pan de sal with butter lands next to the laptop where I sit typing (and listening to Pearl Jam unplugged).

I don't think I'm in Fairlington anymore, Toto!


As much as I have been pushing to go back to my own condo during this ordeal, I've not-so-secretly enjoyed staying at the parentals. I mean, I'm getting spoiled at this point (see above). They are great at making their "pasyente" feel better even though they are still doing their own thing (going out shopping, laying another patio under the deck, hanging out with my aunts, etc). I get to choose what's for dinner, get continuous ice for me knee, and don't really have to do much of anything but lay around a take drugs and play my mom's Wii. And there's the cable! (btw, I've officially know that I'm not missing much. I really am not getting cable anytime soon. I just need to make time to watch Project Runway online. Sidenote: the Season 5 cast = BO-ring. I miss the likes of Austin Scarlet, and of course, Santos + Andre! Tanning, tyed dyed Blane = annoying and contrived).

Anyway, I really must get on with my own life, get some cell phone reception, leave the parentals alone, stop complaining about the pain, and be able to sleep in my own bed. Nonetheless, I'm not afraid to admit it: I'm going to miss being spoiled. My parents are the best.




... who wants to keep me company?! hint. hint.