Houston, We Have A Problem

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Houston, I believe, is the baby of whatever family it's a member of. I know this because each and every time I step foot off the airplane and into Houston territory, there's a solid wall of thick humidity hitting me with such force like it's jumping up and down and waving frantically, "HI, I'M HERE, DO YOU REMEMBER ME?! HELLO, HI, I MISSED YOU!!"
(As the baby of my family, it's something I'd totally do and so this is simply me relating.)
Houston, or actually the Houstonian suburbs really, is not my favorite place in the world. It's hot, it's humid, there's not much to do 'round these parts.
Except... except... Exfriggincept.
I went into four Gap's in a .0001 mile radius in NYC trying to find these black scalloped shorts, and was told that it would be mission impossible because they now only have "fall stock." Well. SORRY. I went into my hometown Gap for a mere two seconds, and saw - layered ten deep - a stack of the very shorts, and at more than 50% off.
Houston - 1.
My hometown mall also has the only Forever 21 in the world that doesn't overwhelm me, even though it's the size of an overweight mammoth's dwellings. It's probably because I've had the floor plan memorized since the day it opened.
Houston - 2.
The radio presets in the car(s) are just the way I like them: country, country, country, Top 40, country.
Houston - 3.
I am able to wear my outfit of choice (read: those ratty T-shirts that come free with trying at anything) while doing my activity of choice (read: absolutely nothing).
With minimal judgment. 
(Minimal, because my parents' new hobby as of late has been asking me why I haven't showered yet; Minimal, because also they have to love me even when my answer is 'will you let me live my life okay thanku.')
Houston - 4.
Catching up with best friends of middle school yore and slurping up iced coffees as the heat gravity melts the condensation into puddles on the rain-washed tables, and having it not be so different from how it was four years ago, except conversation topics like dress code khakis and Xanga and like-likes have turned into grad schools and leases and relationships.
Houston - 5.
Really good water pressure in the shower, two-ply toilet paper, all the pillows in the world to hoard, not having to swipe my own plastic ever, getting chauffered around, all my favorite foods hot 'n ready when I go downstairs, and all my Harry Potter books in one place.
Houston - 50.
Mom and Dad, and occasionally the sister too, sitting next to me at the dinner table.
Houston - 3,993,048,203,948,039,203,984,092,384,093,824.
And that is why, Houston, we have a problem.

my natural habitat – perhaps I identify with cats a smidge.