I had a nice weekend with my family, but they also just make me want to scream sometimes. I'm so glad to be home, home where if I don't feel like smiling nobody slaps me on the shoulder and demands to know what's wrong. Where there are two dogs and four cats, but not eight dogs (more dogs than people) chasing each other around, snarling, fighting, jumping on me, and being a pain in the ass. Where I don't have my grandmother looking pointedly at my fat ass every time I get something to eat, or my aunt glancing sideways at me while she cooks because apparently I should be waiting on the menfolk, not enjoying myself. Where I don't have to see my dad patting his girlfriend's ass, or listen to my grandmother ask me the same question for the fourth time that day, or watch my cousin defer to her douchebag fiancé.

Ah, home. It smells of stale air and cats, and my pilot light went out so it's freezing cold, but it's mine.