Home has hardly been like home the past few days. I've been inducted into a house with one man who tells me how he was a punter in school and how I should do management and not science, one woman who always wants to order pizza, and one child who destroys my house in the most chaotic of manners. As I shirk away my familial obligations by running off to watch movies and then staying away from home for the rest of the day, I am visited tirelessly by my memories of college amidst the more imposing loom of the coming years' finances. Leaving NITK has not been the smoothest of changes for me, it seems.
Ironically enough, I seek peace in another, older man's talk about how he was a punter in school, a man much nearer to me than the one featuring alongside the woman and child. A long drive through the city in the cyclonic showers and I have my laptop back - working, and in spite of being very strongly skeptical of the authenticity of the innards of my machine, I feel comfortable at last - that comfort of familiarity that I had not enjoyed since leaving college.
Tomorrow, I am told, will be different from yesterday and today. There will be no talk of MBAs or pizzas, and I will not be awoken by the sound of shattering glass. And then home will be home once again.
