I’ll say one thing about “home” for the holidays. Hanging at my brother’s has a certain je ne c’est quoi, a lawlessness.
I just got up in just my pajamas (in the house of Pat robes were compulsory) and grabbed a soda in the can and brought it to bed with me. Because I can. Because sodas in this house come in the rare can form which only existed on field-trip days in my youth in this town.
Soda in the can was a rare and wondrous extravagance. And, this soda is brand name. Nothing less.
Here, I can just grab one and drink it in bed. Could have even been a beer.
Strangely, I do, in fact, have cans of soda in my own home, left over from a pre-party Costco trip. I could also drink one in bed. But, there, it has no sense of taboo adventure. Here it’s subversive-y.