Appearance.
Thursday evening. My childhood home, Junior Year in high school. I typically don't invite people over to my house, mainly because I've been to theirs and, well, mine seemed a little less than. This was not necessarily in what we had, but how we maintained it, our standard of care. You see, just like any college male would attest to, boys can get used to some pretty filthy situations. As a child, it wasn't filth, as much as it was lack of maintenance. I could probably still fit into that shirt. Let's do the math. Four boys, at least three dogs, three cats, maybe a bunny in someones room, a mom who worked over-nights, a father who just worked excessively, and extracurricular activities equate to a neglected home. Our house was dirty. That I will agree to. It was worn, it was beat up, it was used to the max of those support beams. Essentially, we lived. As soon as plans with classmates came to the inevitable "my house," like as a date or getting picked u...