Somethings never do change...

Jetlag's foreign to me.. flying through 8 timezones to get home.

Back home, somethings never do change. I'm not just talking about the food, the heat, the afternoon showers and the lovely traffic jams but also the people closest to you. In my family, there's always been 'division of labour'. My dad tells my bro to do something.. and then my bro ends up telling me to do it.. and I end up doing it. Ahh.. yes, the wonders of being the youngest in the family.

Another interesting thing is how the elder one gets something by saying, "Mom/Dad, Jo wants *insert object of desire here*"" where by saying I want it, the elder one enjoys it too. It's something which has been done by the elder one since I can remember. He rides on my younger sibling right to be spoilt and gets something out of it too. He's in his twenties and still does it! *sigh* Elder siblings...a simbiotic relationship, perhaps?

It's strange. My body accepts that it's home.. the smells, the sights, all embedded in my muscle/visual memory. Yet, the brain is still in shock. Maybe its the jetlag or maybe its a combination of the worldcup timetabling and jetlag.

Ahh.. Still. Somehow, it's good to be back.

Offtogorgemyselfandfindsomethingproductivetodo.Overandout.