Two weeks ago, I was at my parents’ house in Las Vegas, staying the night on my way back to Utah from Disneyland. Disneyland was fun, even if we did wait in line for three hours for the Radiator Springs Racers ride. And if the new Fast Pass system is exploitive money gouging. And if my feet still hurt two weeks later. It was fun, I promise. But we’re not talking about Disneyland today. In the few hours I was home, it was nice to see my baby brother, who, at some point since I moved out in 2016, grew to be about 18 feet tall and can now lift a school bus full of snot-nosed children with lead in their backpacks, all by himself. I enjoyed sleeping with my dog at my feet. And I enjoyed eating my dad’s famous Sunday morning waffles. Also while I was home, I took out the trash. Nobody asked me to take out the trash. I just did it because I’m amazing and helpful. I’m an absolute domestic dream. Whilst transferring the waste items from the kitchen trash can, which holds some crap, to the