it's oh so quiet

It's Saturday arvo. I'm sitting in my room with nothing to do but blog (or read my preview copy of John Marsden's newie, Incurable), Caveman's in his room (actually as I was typing that he decided to go to my room and ask me what I was doing tonight to which I replied 'I don't know') doing what I could only imagine cavemen do in their room, Dad's washing the car and Mum's cooking a roast. Avril's spending the weekend with a friend of hers who is over from Sydney for the weekend.

Her absence has caught me unawares a few times today. I catch myself slipping back into my old mindset and thinking we're only living in a Mum, Dad, Caveman and Jess existence. That in six and a half months, I'll be 21, not 21 and an aunty. And then I feel guilty for enjoying the relative uncomplicatedness that I've temporarily found myself in. I mean, I am excited about being an aunty soon and it's great having Avril around but to get a whiff of the old days - even if it's only for a day - is somewhat comforting.

Comfort has been something I've focused on lately. A lot of things seem to revolve around it. I've been eating comfort food (the usual bad crap) and drinking comfort drinks (anything caffeinated). That's normal in anyone's books.

But on Thursday night I found myself taking a comfort drive. Adam was going stir crazy with the situation at his house (which is compelling fodder for his blog) so he wanted to get out of the house, mine included. He wanted me to drive - wherever. It didn't matter. So I drove without thinking. Past Freo, past Cottesloe, past Scarborough, right to the point where Karrinyup Road and West Coast Highway intersect. I didn't realise it until then, I was driving to my Granma and Granpa's house and it was ten pm. We turned onto Karrinyup Road to get to the freeway instead of going straight ahead to their house. It was far too late to be making house calls.