The Lap(top) of Luxury

I've been thinking about buying a laptop for some time now. You know, one of those thoughts that's been in the very dark, back recesses of my mind, just waiting until the day that I scrape bottom on my checking account to come out, full-force, with its very persuasive arguments? Well, I think that day just might be here.

I'm at my parents' house in Thomasville, sitting in my childhood bed (a place of many great nights of sleep... heck, the place that taught me the joys of sleeping, even), in my pajamas, drinking coffee, and emailing/blogging from my mother's wireless laptop. It's the second of two online access options in this great house, as my dad has a desktop down in the family room. I'm LOVING this.

Okay, so it's probably not only the laptop that's making my morning seem so wonderful. it could be the great night's sleep, or the fact that my mom is wanting to attend to my every desire (right now, for example, she's calling back here from the kitchen to see if she can fix me a bowl of cereal), or that my dad is doing the same, from his pharmacy, where he's currently sending Lee, the long-time delivery guy (and, practically, member of the family) over to our house for the sole reason of bringing me a power adaptor so that I can plug the three-pronged laptop cord into the two-holed outlet by my bed before it runs out of batteries. I could get used to this life.

I don't spend much time in Thomasville anymore, for one reason or another. Perhaps it's because the house is so much quieter than it was when I was growing up. There's no sister screaming that it's her turn to use the hairdryer so she's going to even though ten other things are already plugged in, and then, immediately following, Dad's yell back (from a pitch black hallway) of "How many times do I have to tell you girls that you CANNOT PLUG TWENTY MILLION APPLIANCES IN AT ONCE!?!?!?!?!" There's no Beth putting on makeup next to me in the bathroom while making up every Spanish sentence she can think of that uses her most current Spanish Word of the Day from the calendar she used to have. There's no Amy and Julie in the bathroom down the hall, chattering in what they think are low tones about the latest crush, or Mom calling for the umpteenth time to tell us that breakfast is on the table. I, always the quiet, sullen one, would of course brood in unspoken bitterness at all of this, but now that I'm older and live by myself, I miss it a little.

Anyway, every time I'm here, the memories come flooding back. I look at the yearbooks on my bookshelves, the prom picture from my sophomore year (where I'm in the little black dress that is STILL my all-time favorite), the autographed promo photo of Kevin Costner that Kelly's mom bought for me from a celebrity auction back when I was going to marry the guy post-Robin Hood, and the remnants of the teddy bear collection I used to have, and I'm content. I'm happy with the way my life has turned out so far, but there's a part of me that will always feel most comfortable at home.

And on that note, I'm off to get ready for the day. A world-famous poolroom hotdog from the billiard hall downtown is calling my name.

Then again, maybe I could stay right here and get Lee to pick one up for me? Now that's a thought...