So, all day, from the moment that first ray of annoying sunlight started invading the inner sanctum that is my bedroom, I wanted a day...one day for myself. I had this dream of being able to wake up, make myself a wonderful breakfast (all the while having music play in my head worthy of a 90's sitcom), lazily get dressed and begin to put my life back together. No family, no obligations, no guilt, just peace. The morning was wonderful. My brother, who never seems to get going till about noon, was not making noise in his shop that is located on the other side of my bedroom window. My parents were at work. And I was living my dream. All things were wonderful until the afternoon when, like a ball that rolls down a hill and lands in a pond of goo, the whole thing turned into a disaster. For some reason, I was just unable to recover. I couldn't pull it back to a place where the dream could continue living. Instead I turned into the worst version of myself, swearing at my family in my...