Back To My Teen Room

I am home. I mean at my parents’ and back to my teenage room. I know that I have mentioned it many times, but the feeling hasn’t sunk in yet.

So yes, parents’ home. Eek! The irony of being 30 and living in my parents’, with their-roof-their-rules rule doesn’t escape me.

At age 30 my Amma had a husband, a baby, and a Nintendo set, meanwhile I have two boxes of personal items floating on the sea, dangerously decreasing saving account and several what-ifs that keep me awake at night.

It’s not without reasons. I want to spend quality times with them, and there are some loose ends to tie before pursuing my plan to move to Australia.

So yes, I am taking a gap month(s) aka a rent-free living situation with a curfew.

I reached last Friday, and I had been hibernating+binge snacking+profiling people together with the Criminal Minds experts throughout the weekend.

It was also my birthday weekend, so we went out for dinner, just the three of us, which was great.

Birthday story and pictures are coming soon; it’s a wee bit frustrating because we are still using dial-up over here.

I am experiencing slow death while waiting for the dial up to connect me to the world.


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