I don't actually know what planet I'm from, but I can describe it perfectly.
Days on my planet are 30 hours long. I get to put off going to bed for an extra four hours every night and sleep an extra two hours every morning.
We have four seasons: summer, warmer summer, even warmer but still perfectly comfortable summer, and refreshingly cool but still perfectly comfortable and with prettier leaves than usual summer.
The only constellation in our night sky is the "Whole Buncha Random Stars" constellation, so everybody on my planet's astrological sign is Randomarian. Randomarians are well known not to believe in astrology, so that column in the news pretty much never gets read.
Our water has to be processed before it can be drunk. It has to be extracted from the coffee that flows in majestic rivers across the landscape.
Dogs on my planet hate people food. On my planet you can safely leave it lying around places that would be brazenly reckless to leave food if you own a dog here on earth, like on top of the refrigerator.
People on my planet have adopted the custom of skipping the argument and going straight to the make-up sex. This has had the unfortunate side effect of creating a culture of deliberate aggravation, but so far nobody's complaining.
On my planet you get paid days off for your birthday, Halloween, Valentines Day, and getting your nails done. If you come to work sick you have to pay everybody for the days they have to take off sick because of the cold they caught from you, and also bring them soup. And fashion magazines. And a Toblerone. And a lottery ticket.
And make sure you get the bonus pick.
I do get homesick, sure, but I'm doing my best to make myself comfortable here. I just wish I could find a tattoo artist that knows how to draw the Randomarian symbol, or at least have the decency to take their clothes off when I yell at them for getting it wrong.
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