when i was their age

I said, perhaps foolishly, "If you end up going to that party tonight, give me a call."

My house has become sort of a refuge for all the angsty kids who don't like their parents. That's fine. I was angsty when I was their age, but I always have gotten along with my folks. I had to be angsty about other things.

It feels strange for me, being close to 3o, and having my house full of kids--they're not my friends, but a roommate's; he's 22--and for the most part they're pretty nice. They tend to leave their empty beer bottles everywhere, but I was the same way when I was their age, and I can still be pretty messy if I don't check myself. This evening, I did a bunch of dishes before I had left over pasta and sausage for dinner. The kitchen's a mess again, but I'm not tripping. Half-hearted cleaning gives me something to do when I come home from work.

I was sitting in my room, logging quality time with my PlayStation 2 when the kids showed up. There might have been 20 of them, but really it was probably only six. I thought they might be moving on as quickly as they arrived, but they ended up staying, which was fine by me, but Mondays make me old and grumpy so I closed my door and watched disc four, season one of Carnivale. Halfway through the second episode, at 11pm, I got a phone call.

"Me and so-and-so are going to so-and-so's party. You want to go?"

"Yeah, sure."

"We'll be there in five minutes, is that cool?"

"Yeah, I'll be ready when you get here."

Five minutes was more like 20 really, but I wasn't really counting. There were discarded bowls of pudding everywhere and empty bottles of beer and kids ripping bong hits in my kitchen, but whatever. They were being pretty laid-back about it. But since I felt like a guest in my own home, I figured it'd be best just to check out for a little while. That was the plan--just for a little while. An aquaintence of mine was having a birthday today, so I at least wanted to wish her a happy birthday, and I already had to bottles of beer in me anyways...

It seems that my way to wish someone a happy birthday is to drink myself sleepy on a Monday night. I guess it wasn't entirely my fault (really, it was), but I didn't have to pay for a single drink, seeing as the birthday girl was a bar employee.

There was Guinness, fun and a cozy small turn out. I got a ride home--the bar is way across town--so I'm happy, and not only because I'm a bit buzzed.

I don't care that there's empty beer bottles (none of which are mine) strewn across my house, and it doesn't bother me that work is just a scant few hours away (but it probably will bother me when my alarms go off). For now, I'm going to pour myself a tall glass of water, maybe pay the bathroom a visit, and thank my liver for yet another proud night of service.

I owe you, buddy.