Kistaro Windrider, Reptillian Situation Assessor (kistaro) wrote,
Kistaro Windrider, Reptillian Situation Assessor

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My Return

Well, I'm back.

What a trip. It went better than some, but more exhaustingly than most.

This is going to be LONG; therefore...

Day One
Goal time to leave: 10:30a
Time I woke up: 9:45a
Time my mother woke up: 10:25a
Time we left: 12:30p

After piling into the car, we set off. Having eaten first, we didn't have to stop immediately; the trip out was entirely uneventful.

Then we got to the motel room; they upgraded us to a suite!

A suite with a couch and one bed instead of two beds!

The fold-out bed in the couch was the singularly most uncomfortable thing I have ever had the misfortunte of sleeping on. (I did end up sleeping on it through the entire trip.)

Day Two
I woke up at 6:00a, having slept relatively well considering the bed; my parents were asleep. I was hungry.

8:30a: My father woke up and accompanied me downstairs to the Free Breakfast after we got dressed. I didn't have a key to get in the room, 16 years old though I am, so I had to wait.

The breakfast itself was an interesting list of choices:

1. Ping Pong Ball Eggs
2. Toast
3. Grease-filled Donuts
4. Cereal

I chose the cereal. This was, inded, the least objectionable of all the choices; however, this isn't saying much. Cereals availible:

*Cardboard Bran (Made of 100% recycled cereal boxes!)
*Food Coloring Loopz
*Flaky Flakes near as I could tell. I chose the first; while it appeared to be rasin bran, the flavor and consistency spoke for its true nature.

Went to my aunt's house; assisted in cooking a very early Thanksgiving dinner. And repairing her computer, which consisted of unchecking the "PAUSE PRINTING" function on the printer and switching two cables, then getting a decent virus scanner (and finding nothing, fortunately).

Then came the dinner. There were only two notable things:

1. My uncle Melvin. This time last year, he was in a coma in an intensive care unit after a ruptured hernia. He is now walking with a cane and breathing on a portable oxygen tank.

2. My cousin Tyler. I feel so sorry for him; he's only... uhh... 9, I think, and his life is so messed up... his parents treat him more like a slave than a child. Literally. Command after command, and threats of punishment. Never once did I hear an "I love you" at any point.

The first is a testament to the human will. The second is a testament to human evil. All in the family.

Day Three
Waking up to my father shaking me awake at 7:30a, still on the sleeper sofa, we went to the nearby Cracker Barrel to get breakfast. Hypothetically.

Rolling out at 9:00a (my mother is not an early riser), we walked the 300 feet to the restaurant and put in our names.

And waited.

And waited.

You see, a nun was having her birthday party in the front section; the only section where I could sit due to my athsma (cigarette smoke in the back section makes me sick in the middle section).

45 minutes later, the group of 30 taking almost the entire section finished eating...

"Separate checks, please."

10:00a: Breakfast, 2h30m after when I wanted it.

Next, on to a Kroger to get supplies for that night's dinner at my mother's (and aunt's) church; officially, mine as well, but I disagree with 90% of it (and the rest is very, very generalized) so I don't really consider it to be my religion. Of course, it's not really a choice for me to go- or if I go on Sunday or not. Not in the Indiana part of my family.

Anyway, we completed most of the items on the list; only thing left was the eggs.

An unpleasant surprise. The eggs seemed to have been stacked in the refrigerator by an angry chimpanzee with a sledgehammer. Average number of ruined (cracked or broken) eggs per 12-carton: six.

We got an intact 18-egg carton and checked out.

Fast forward to 6:00 PM: the church potluck dinner, to which we forget the devilled eggs which we fought so hard to find at the market.

I'm not sure who provided the chicken noodle soup; whoever it was needed to get fresher chicken. The chicken was rancid.

Everything else was fine, so we got to the auction.

Yes, the Auction. Every year, Rugby Church holds the Fruits of the Harvest auction, to which I'm required to provide some of my old things for them to auction. My parents are not so obligated, of course.

Items provided, price I paid, auctioned for:
56-in-one board game set; paid $2.50, sold $6.00
Toy swiss army knife; paid $5.00, sold $1.00
Flashing eyes to put in a jack-o-lantern: paid $.50, sold $.50
"Things your 6'th Grader Needs To Know In School:" paid $15.00, sold $4.00
Handmade potholder: paid (N/A, I made it), sold $3.00 (a new record; I always bring at least one potholder, but the best price to date was $2.25)

The auction was fun; what wasn't fun was trying to keep nine small children in line. The parents were too busy at the auction to watch them, so the request fell on the first responsible-looking teenager who didn't look like he wanted to buy much.

Guess who?

I did end up with a really good deal on a professional briefcase, though- last item ($1.00 because everybody was talking and nobody noticed that the auction actually occured).

Day Four
Finally, we get to go home- after going to chuch with views that I don't believe in. I hated every minute of it, but what can I do?

12:15p: Time to go home. Those storms shouldn't be a problem, right?

2:15p: Pulled over to the side of the road, waiting for the hailstorm to pass.

...Anyway, I finally got home. So here I am.



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