I'm at home, but the environment is like the downstairs at my parents', and my room where it used to be at the bottom of the stairs, but the basement is more open. Family friend Brandt is there, and he has some complicated plan (*), but I say wouldn't it be a lot easier just to stay here, since I have a nice guest room? He says yeah, he'll do that.

The guest room is across the basement, to the room on the left under the porch. I go over there to check it out and make sure it's clean and guest-ready, but... it isn't. My parents have put a desk in there, and some other stuff, making it rather crowded. But wait, I have another guest room upstairs, I think it's better. In my mind, it is my guest room at my present house.

As I pass my bedroom, there is a baby crawling across the floor, so I pick her up and carry her upstairs to check out the other guest room. I go up to the upstairs, but at the top of the stairs Keta is playing some game with the children, wherein you have to have tickets to pass, and gives us a handful of tiny strips of paper, which the baby proceeds to grab and scatter. Anyway we manage to present one of them and pass by, to look at the other guest room, which is packed with junk. Ok, I guess the one downstairs is the better one.

I joke to Brandt something about if you don't keep an eye on your room, it gets filled up with stuff.

(*) My friend Mark had such a complicated plan last week, involving his truck, and getting a new bolt put in without burning himself, but driving the truck to get the bolt. I suggested he just stay in my guest room and take my truck to get the bolt in the morning.