My kitchen ceiling happens to have collapsed and now sporadically leaks water from the bathroom above on to the floor. It was a joyous and rapturous discovery.
I often feel guilty about the very litle amount of time I seem to make for my family - it certainly isn't for lack of wanting to see them, just one of the downsides to having 7 days of 7 occupied with unavoidable commitments. One day leads into another and before I know it - bang - I hadn't actually been back to visit them since Christmas. So it came as a nice excuse did having my ceiling explode to move home, however briefly, and spend time with them.
Whilst I lived here permanently I couldn't wait to get out - every last little thing became an irritant; I could not wait to have my own space, the freedom to do what I pleased, eat what and when I felt like (ditto consume vast amounts of alcohol) and generally not have to be answerable to anyone but myself. Once I moved out to Fashionista Towers that liberty was amazing but a few months down the line the realities of being responsible did hit home a little more, bills do not pay themselves, food does not buy itself and when houses being to fall apart (quite literally) it takes a lot of swearing at landlords to get it sorted pronto. The grass is always greener as they say.
I had been feeling rather stressed of late, my new home is beautiful and I love my life and lifestyle very much but sometimes it can all be a bit too much of a good thing. Giving two nights of my week for having to sacrifice the space to do the things I can't do back at my Dad's (ie. go out drinking midweek, smoking inside, playing loud music, eating as much or as little as I want, being able to be completely alone if I felt like it etc) has certainly been a fair trade for the constant laughter I have exhibited since I arrived, the enjoyment of food made for me that that hadn't been prepared in either a toaster/ kettle/ microwave and wasn't consumed straight out of the packaging, the washing up being kept on top of, a working bathroom and being surrounded constantly by people that love and appreciate me.
I miss home in many ways. Last night I felt like I had instantly shaved years off my life, curled up at 8.30pm in bed with my sister wearing out sized pjs, eating mini eggs, watching a teen movie, being brought a cup of tea and being asked what time I wanted waking up in the morning and being given my bus fare. It was rather blissful.
However I know that much longer and the sugar coated idealistic view would wear off and the arguments over who's left damp towels about/ eaten the last yogurt/ not emptied the dishwasher/ used or stolen such a thing/ forgotten to feed the pets/ not sorted the washing out/ lost the remote etc would be back in full force and we'd generally very quickly get on each others nerves (as all normal functional families do). I like being answerable to myself because I do respect my father too much to just go off doing what I pleased living under his roof and my independence means a great deal to me.
I don't believe that now and again going back to this child like state is a bad thing - we all need parenting from time to time and I feel very blessed that I have here as an escapism - it's a beautiful and much treasured resource in my life and I know I am very lucky to have them to turn to.