Home (Series) -- no. 4

Home is where you have no shame.

You can prance around in your underwear,

hop past a mirror, catch your reflection, and go "eww, look at that belly"

and prance around some more.

You can not shower for days,

have sticky hair,

and old make up,

and black-bottomed feet,

and not have a care in the world.

You can pig out on the couch, and watch TV until you hurl.

You can pick your nose, and drop your boogers on the table,

so that you can sweep 'em off into the waste basket later when you feel like finally getting up.

You can cough without worrying a fart "you didn't see coming" lets out.

You can rub between your toes, and think "man, I need a shower."

You can pick at your belly button,

get all the lint out,

and think, "man, I really need a shower."

You can finally hit the shower, 

and end up sitting in the tub for hours.

You can sing in the shower,

and, well, everywhere else in the parameter.

You can come out of the bathroom,

refreshed and lazy,

and pass out in your robe and wet hair.

You can speak to yourself.  Out loud.

You can chat with a friend on the phone in 45 different positions.

Or you can not answer the phone, and pretend you're not there.

You can paint your nails a million times because you can't keep still and keep smudging them.

You can make a mess in your room on a day of wardrobe malfunction,

and say, "fuck it, I ain't going out today;"
lay on your pile on mess, 

then text your friends "sorry, I'm not feeling so well."

You can get OCD, organize and clean every corner and crevice like a mad Korean woman,

and space out between tasks.

You can space out.  Period.

You can be yourself without apologizing.

You can be free.

But most importantly - 

You can do all of the above, 

get really sick and bored,

go out and do whatever,

and at the end of the day,

feel glad to be home again.

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