Well, tomorrow I'm going home to Hinton, Oklahoma. This will probably be the last time I ever spend the night in the house I grew up in... and I don't like it one bit.

Initially, I chalked up my dissatisfaction with the move up to the fact that sometimes I react badly to change. For instance, whenever a girl I'm dating gets a haircut and radically changes the style, no matter how much I may like the hairstyle my first reaction is always, "Why did you do that?" instead of, "Hey, that looks nice." And so when dad first told me he'd bought a house in Oklahoma City, I felt the temptation to say, "Why?" and instead said "Well, I guess that's good." Right now, I'm wishing I'd let myself get upset about it. I don't want to leave my house. I don't care that I don't live there, and I don't really care that I'm only there for maybe two weeks out of the year anymore. That's my house, that's my town, and by golly I'm going to miss it. I'll miss being able to bring people home and tell me how beautiful my house is. I'll miss seeing their reactions to how small and quaint the town is. After this week, I won't be able to bring people home to sleep in "The Cave" (props to Mandie for naming the bedroom in my basement). I'll miss having people over to sit in the hot tub, I'll miss the patio that I helped stain while Roy MacLemore built it for us.

I love that place.

Okay, I can't talk about this anymore.