This isn't being sappy.

This is me, loving home.

I've been home for four days now, and the only time I've gone out was to go to church and eat breakfast out with my sis and mom.

I love the non-commitment of being home; that I don't have to go out because I can barely tolerate my living conditions (dirty/crazy landlady), that everything is familiar and just simply makes me happy.

At home, I don't need anything nor anyone (not even Moobs) as long as all that is home is here, including the routine.

Dad goes to work, Kev (10 years old, youngest bro) goes to school and my mom bustles around the house, albeit sometimes pissed off-ly doing housework and preparing lunch, with my sis in tow while I .. er... loiter. Jon (the 14-year-old bro) would wake up about 10am, eat and eat and ask us ridiculous questions while we beg him to go take a shower and get ready for school.

Then my mom, with my sis still in tow, drops Jon off at school then wait around til Kev finishes school then pick him up. Me, I wait at home for my dad to come for lunch, and we'll eat while I say something stupid on purpose so that we can have a conversation.

Here, I know where my place is and what role I play. I am the daughter who tells the father off if he drinks too much beer despite being diabetic, and the one who tells lame jokes to get her mom out of her mood swings.

I am the sister who bribes her brothers into being more active in sports and slips them petty cash whenever I have some.

I am the sister who bullies the younger sister into doing stuff for her, but offers shopping sprees when she goes on her 'I am a princess' rant.

Being back makes me feel like a queen.