My Life as Greg Brady
Wednesday night was the final nail in my undergrad. After a few hours of scrubbing, sucking, scraping, and cruising around town looking for empty dumpsters to unload our crap in, my roommates and I successfully cleared out the house that I’ve spent nearly the past three years and seven roommates with.
I have officially moved back home.
Crash and I are sharing the basement with my little brother. This was my room for years, but he was quick to snatch it up before I was even out the door. I can’t say I blame him, this place rules, as long as you can get over the occasional sewer leak.
Crash has gone over really well, I’ve been bragging about how horribly endearing my dog is for months, but in the past 72 hours he has completely sold every member of my family with his goofy-grin and scar tissue. My dad can’t even hate him, and if your an animal and my dad doesn’t hate you, then that is a success.
The strange thing about this entire process is that although this is still the house and the people I grew up with, this isn’t my house anymore. This isn’t my bedroom or my furniture, everyone’s moved around and redecorated, bought new furniture and appliances, painted walls and ripped out fences, my house grew up, and I’m cool with that.
With that comes this weird feeling of responsibility, like I’m a guest at a friend’s place, or trying to make a good first impression. I’m cooking, doing dishes, driving people around, keeping tabs on my crap, and keeping tabs on my dog. I was actually fairly concerned about that (keeping tabs on my dog) when I moved in. Crash’s my boy, my responsibility, and I think more than anything I just wanted to prove that I can care for something other than myself (or, more likely, I want the affirmation that I’ve done a decent job taking care of something other than myself). I think I just want to prove I can be responsible.
Anyway, so far so good.
We finished round 2 of our summer competition today. Round one consisted of a guestimation challenge ranging from the mileage on our cars to the Dow Jones to the NBA Finals. Out of 11 questions, my little brother answered the closest the most, and took the lead.
Today we expanded the Pepsi Challenge for our second round. Mom went out and bought the brand name and generic counterpart to nine products we use on a regular basis and, with the help of a friend, portioned out each into anonymous dishes. Everyone tried each product and guessed which was the name brand and which was the generic version. At the end Katelyn, Austin and my Mom tied for the most correct answers. Highlights included:
- My Dad betting his retirement that Glass A was filled with Coke, when Glass A was, in fact, filled with Pepsi.
- Landry mislabeling her favorite ice cream as the generic brand.
- Thumping my little brother in the neck with a plastic spoon.
Pictures are next.
-
letterswapwithm liked this
-
amigossssso liked this
-
sosafe posted this
