Bye, house.

So, the moveout date is Tuesday. But for me, the moveout date was today, as I am now back at school. Which means that I've walked out of "my house" for the last time. It was weird. I remember distinctly the first time I walked in it (I was three). I didn't like it. My neighbor is unpleasant. The houses are too close together for my liking. And I never did figure out why we aren't religious enough to go to church ever, but we are religious enough to keep a statue of Mary in our backyard. Pfft!

The stairway and the upstairs hallways are bordered by a white bannister. The one little pole-dealy on the corner over the stairs (this would make more sense if you knew what I was talking about) has been lose since we moved in. Of course, this did not prevent me from grabbing it and using it for some swinging-leverage (like a monkey) whenever I came up or down the stairs. I always wondered how long it would hold up. Well, it broke today. Probably when my father was moving stuff downstairs. Figures. Anyway, that's the sort of day it was. [/what?]

Eh. I feel like I should feel. I made sure I walked through all the rooms, and "say goodbye" to them. There's a crawlspace in the basement behind the boiler. We somehow managed to get a large wooden trunk, a suitcase, and my mother's guitar back there, but there doesn't seem to be a pratical way to get them out. So we're leaving them there. My sister said she doesn't want to know if anything has nested in it or something. This turn of events pisses me off. Anyway, so, I was was having all these nostalgic feelings upon my departure, but, you know, in an apathetic way. I did lay down on the bed in the spare room and I wound up falling asleep. Eeeehhhhh.

I left early, because the computer was disconnected, and so was my VCR, so I didn't really know what time it was. "American Pie" played on the radio. That was pretty neat. Did you know that the Joker refers to Bob Dylan?

So, I'm going to go back up next weekend, to help my mother unpack. I have to work on some... well, work this week, and i'm going to go see one of my professors and lie to him shamelessly about why I've been such a lazy schmo this semester. This will be odd. And tiring. I don't have a home anymore, I've realized. I mean, I'll never be homeless. There are lots of places that I can stay, at all times. But I'll be living in "my mother's house" now. There is no "my house". I think of it as my mother's house. I don't have any attachment to it. So I don't really have a home. That idea makes me feel very tired.

Hey, did you know that it's Easter? I found that out this weekend, because I was presented with chocolate. Go Jesus. I miss Human contact.

In other news, where the devil is bettie?