I'm baaaaack.

Of course, a good majority of you didn't even realize I was gone. Oh, perhaps you stopped in the middle of your busy day and said, "huh! The campus seems a little empty, a little lonely, as if it had... died, just a little." But little did you realize that, for medical reasons, I was being held captive at my home in Aurora for the entire week.

Don't get me wrong-- Aurora is a nice place and all. For those of you who don't know it (and I'd wager that's all of you), Aurora is home to Geauga Lake and Sea World, which is nice, because it makes me one of the few people in the Midwest to be able to say that I live within five miles of a killer whale, which may come in handy on a resume some day (special skills-- can live in close proximity with dangerous ocean creatures.) But there's just something weird about it.

Fortunately for you, I kept a journal of my exploits at home, which, because I am feeling generous, I would like to share with you now:

Day one: My mother, who is receiving chemotherapy, receives a visit from the Wigs on Wheels lady. She tries on a wig that makes her look like Sally Field when she was on "Gidget" in the sixties. The Wigs on Wheels lady assures her that it will look better in her natural color. She buys one. I decide that I must be a Wigs on Wheels lady when I grow up.

Day two: My cat brings a three-legged chipmunk into the house. Hilarity ensues. In a frenzy (you have no idea how terrifying a stumpy woodland creature is until you're faced with one), I call my best friend Kelly, who laughs at me and offers absolutely no helpful pest removal tips. Eventually, my father comes home, lifts up the couch, and the chipmunk waltzes out as if it had won the Miss America pageant. The day is saved.

Day three: I watch an MTV special on Drew Barrymore, and wonder why I wasn't world famous and addicted to cocaine at age thirteen. After much soul searching, I realize that it is because at thirteen I was, give or take a leper or two, the ugliest person alive; also, cocaine was not readily available on Aurora's suburban streets. In a telephone conversation to my father, I plant the seed that the only way I will ever heal is if someone gives me a portable CD player. That evening, my parents spend a good hour entertaining themselves by (and I swear I am not making this up) blowing up a balloon, letting it go, and watching my cat chase it.

Day four: I spend the entire day doing school work, except when I stopped to watch "Arthur," which I figure still counts because it is on public TV and is therefore educational. I remind my parents that I would feel a heck of a lot better if only I had a portable CD player. Later that evening, I receive a portable CD player. I am shocked and stunned.

Day five: The Wigs on Wheels lady returns with my mother's wig, which looks exactly like her natural hair, despite what appeared at first glance to be a Gidget style. She persuades my mother to buy a snood with optional attachable bangs. I grow certain that my destiny is to become a Wigs on Wheels lady.

So, there you have it. Not your typical week, by any means. But I guess we're not your typical family. As for me, I'm feeling a lot better. And my mother has promised me that I can have her wig when she's done with it. Who knows-- perhaps I can build my Wigs on Wheels empire from it.