Home, home on the range

So I go over to my friend's house Friday after work to help him babysit (i.e., drink his beer) because hey, it's Friday and I don't have a damn thing else to do. He was on "vacation" all week. Let me detail this and then I think you'll see why I would rather work (and he would too, apparently). His week entailed a delivery of 2 tons of landscaping gravel, digging out drainage ditches from his gutters (that should've already been done) and various other miscellaneous homeowner duties. Add to the equation the fact that he was babysitting his two kids for the last 2 days and you have a recipe for insanity. His and mine. And, this funk that I'm suffering from that makes me feel like I constantly have my head submerged in a pool? Yeah, I'm pretty sure I caught it over there last weekend. His house is a $500K house. And it's not that old. You'd think it wouldn't need landscaping already, a new roof, or drainage put in. And you'd be wrong. And I'd be livid. I'm 3 weeks from getting the hell out of Americana and home ownership and all the middle class, Pink Houses bullshit and I can't wait. If this is being a "grown-up" then I want no part of it. At all. None. And, you know what? I don't even want to hear about yours because it just makes me tired. Although I can go home and crash on my couch in my absolutely spotless and quiet living room and enjoy the evening in peace, so maybe it does help foster an appreciation of the simpler, finer things in life. Who knows? Whatever. Anyway, he comes over Saturday to help me haul big trash items from my house to the landfill because I don't have a truck anymore. It's 85 degrees at 9:00 a.m. I can't hear myself think. Swallowing sounds like an explosion in my head. And if I move any faster than a snail on pot, I get sick. He then says, "if you get bored later, ride on over. If you help me spread some gravel, I'll make you dinner." As much as I didn't want a frozen pizza or a salad Saturday, somehow I managed to pass. Instead, I chose to spend the day high on Benadryl and watching the worst movies ever on the Sci-Fi Channel: Movies You Can Pass Out To! Needless to say, there was no physical labor in this boy's weekend. Although I did manage to pack some stuff up in the kitchen that I'm sure I'll never use again. That turkey roasting pan? Like I'm ever cooking a big bird again....well, maybe next 4th of July.