Ah, home.

It smells like spaghetti in here. THANK GOD.

I just got home. By "home" I mean back home, at my parents' house. I've got some things to do today - i.e. go to court and get a divorce - but that's another story for another day. Or not. Not much left to be told, I suppose.

But as a welcome home treat, Mom's making her spaghetti. Mom's Spaghetti, the one meal I'd wish to have on the day of my execution. Should I ever receive the death penalty.

You never know.

Grandma's coming over, bringing her chocolate pie, and I'll spend the night grasping onto every inch of this place because right now it's a comfort.

It also helps that there's free food, gas, three cats and a dog.

Ah, home. So fabulous.