And, as it turns out, I will also have the privilege of sleeping on a partially reclined futon in my sister's room instead of my comfortable bed in the room that has been mine for the last (I'm not even exaggerating) thirty years, because, as I found out when I walked in the door, my sister took the liberty of moving all of my stuff into her room, and all of her stuff into mine. Surprise! Which, fine, she lives here now and I don't, and that room is bigger, but thirty years of habit takes some getting used to. And, you know, carefully constructed safe haven and all that, but whatever. Bygones.
Maybe I'm just cranky because I'm hungry. I think I'm going to head into the kitchen and eat some iceberg lettuce, take an Advil PM, brush the dog hair off the futon and call it a night.