Blame Game

There is an annoying habit being practiced in the house. It's called "Let's Blame Holly for Shit!"
Just a second ago, Connie busted in the room and tells me not to sit in her dining room chair anymore because there is a stain on it. I'm assuming since I am being blamed she is accusing me of staining her chair. OK. So I am like, "Ok." She now has exiled me to the kitchen, where she also wants me to eat because, apparently, I stain things.
Then there is Jimmy, the cat. The outdoor house cat. She tells me today not to let Jimmy in because he pulled down the drapes. I didn't bring him in in the first place!
I hate being regulated like this, but I have known Connie since I was in middle school. I knew it would be like this. I mean, overall, living with her is cool. But it is her house. The rules and regs just remind me of how homeless I am. This is not my house. Sigh. It was nice of her to allow me to stay here, but that's just it: I'm just staying here. I miss the feeling of home, you know? But I wonder, even if I had my own house, would it feel like home to me since my family wouldn't live there with me? I don't know. I am just trying not to be sad over it.