1.) you used to be able to navigate the house and its obsticles with no problem, even if you were so drunk you couldn't remember to wear pants. Now you've moved back and you're fumbling with a light switch, stone sober, cursing your parents for moving it on you.
2.) Forgetting to take that extra step out of the doorway and tripping over the Gatorade that you know is there, and still trip over.
3.) Walking into the wall instead of where you think the bathroom door is.
4.) Stepping on the cat. The gold cat.
5.) You throw your cigarette butts wherever, and hope for the best.
6.) Your body is not used to smoking outside.
On the bright side I do still know my father's footfalls and where he's going as he walks. First he feeds the cats, this is accompanied by the ting ting of their dishes. Then he goes and turns off the Christmas lights before making sure the basement door is closed, Garage door locked and then he'll close the blinds before heading upstairs to bed.
Five minutes after this I am safe to roam about the house like a ninja. Well used to be ninja. Now I'm more like a one legged hobo in a fucking obstacle course.
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