Time spent with my mom is usually not time well enjoyed. It's a shame our schedules have such conflicting hours, and that our homes have such conflicting locations. Since my official departure date established itself in her mind, it's been even more unbearable. Part of the irritation stems from my own apprehension of leaving. There are three weeks left. Two weekends. Even if I filled every moment with meaningful activity, it wouldn't be enough. That time with my mom is time wasted in sleep. Her apartment has cable television and an air conditioner, two things my dad's house does not. However, her collection of rooms is no home, and I'm not too hot on TV to begin with. There is nothing left to do but think, eventually falling into sleep. At least I dream. Absentminded thinking isn't even as fulfilling at my mom's. It's a shame that this was my fifteen minutes. Forced writing is difficult, though I hope this project opens a little well of inspiration. Unfortunately, I assume inspiration does not come OnDemand.