No! No enchilada!

because I don't like cheese, that's why.

Tomorrow morning at 8 am, my father will wake me up and 83% of the girl who sulked back to the city back in May will return to the bustling metropolis of Middletown. I don't know how I feel about that.

On the one hand, I'm setting it up so that I will ROCK this year. I'm psyched for classes, I got a SM gig, I'm doing some gay thing this weekend, I have many half-assed plans and ambitions, and I got a shrink up there, so if I am sad again someone will be on my case about it.

On the other hand, I'm really comfortable in my home. For example, my bed. My bed was custom made for me when I was 2 years old ish. We went to the store and I sat on every bed and I saw this one and said "This one! This is my big pink bed!" (It had pink sheets.) We then tried every matress in the store and I selected the second-hardest available. They tried to coax me out of it, but I wanted that one and am stubborn like a duck. To this day, I am only truly comfortable on a matress that can hold up a glass while I'm lying there next to it.

Another for example is my books. I am sort of a book-a-holic (addited to bookahol). I don't necessarily read as much as I used to on paper, per se, but I spend most of my non-reading free time on the Internet, which involves as much technical "reading" as a book, and also I spend lots of time on quasi-educational sites, like about news or science. But the point is, I only get to bring a limited selection of my massive catalog of books, both read and unread. And I'm a big "comfort reader," as in I reread completely random books from my past and it makes me feel better. For example, yesterday on the toilet, I was compelled to read Maus. How is that comforting?, you might ask. It's about the holocaust! And a crazy old person! With mice! But it was important, and it was the only thing that possibly could've helped. Now, what if that'd happened when I was at school, and I hadn't brought Maus? I would've remained unsatisfied! So I have to anticipate the whims of Future-Shapiro, and I have to bring a good selection of books I haven't read, to feed the imagination.

Another example is the cat. However, I refuse to become a cat-blogger, because it is a cliché.

And finally, there is my mommy. Her leg hurts a lot, and she limps and complains and refuses to use her cane and makes me rub her leg and is seriously contemplating switching to Yiddish so that she can fully embody Walter Matthau in The Sunshine Boys (ENTAAAH!), but she's a comforting presence, what with her having birthed me and all. She also is probably the only person on the planet willing to listen to me ramble about my new (incredibly fuzzy and incomplete) theory about how we can totally interpret the Book of Genesis to confirm Evolution, thus ending all that hullaballoo.

All right, guys. If you need me, I'll be in the Middle of Town.