Finally, Friday is here. It’s been far too long. After groceries, running kids here and there, renting videos, and picking up pizzas, my ass is finally in my chair next to my records spinning BoC’s ‘Geodaddi’ that I just picked up.
You know, they say home is where the heart is(who are they, and who makes them experts?), and I tend to agree with that generalized statement. Home is indeed where the heart is; it’s also where my vinyl is, and where my fridge is which is where my beer lives. I can remember thinking as a kid and teen “Why doesn’t grandpa ever come over to visit? He never leaves his house? Why do we have to always go see him instead of the other way around?” Well, I get it now, grandpa. I get it.
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Whose home? The vinyl’s? The beer’s? Does it matter if they let you hang out?
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No, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Cool place to be regardless of who’s paying the house payment.
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As I lie here in my bed – my friends all out partying the night away – I wholeheartedly agree.
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Blessed is the homebody. And you’ll feel a hell of a lot better than your friends come morning.
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