I opened the door of the room next to the garage with every intention of curling up in my chair and reading one of my books from my shelf, while listening to my fan whirl above my head. However, I apparently mistook the new storage closet for my bedroom. I jokingly mentioned this to my father, who replied, "It gets more practical use this way."
. . . to which I, slightly amused, realize I'm a little homeless.
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