Lemme alone, Ma.

I am voluntarily stuck in my parents house for a few days. I don't know what it is about being here that causes me to revert back to thirteen year old me, but it happens every time. For some reason my parents feel its necessary to tell me when I should eat, sleep, eat more, dress warmly...I mean, how do I survive without them? The other night, my mother told me I should wear long johns under my clothes. For cripes sake, who wears long johns? Furthermore, who actually calls them long johns? I'm convinced that she thinks I don't cook or buy food for my family. Her refrigerator is packed to the brim with half of the grocery store's inventory. Every morning is a game of food Tetris as I try to fish out an orange and bagel. "See all this GOOD food I have? You can eat anything you want here. Anything at all!" Thanks, Ma. Nonetheless, I'm soaking up family time. In just a few short days I'll be an adult again, back in my non-painfully cold house filled with non-carb loaded food. Ah, the most wonderful time of the year.