Last Friday, I made the executive decision to head home for the weekend. Between the homecoming game, family time, and a chance to soak in some Tama-Toledo air, I figured it was the right move. After finishing my cross-country workout, I hopped in the shower, tossed some things in a bag, and hit the road.

I say “tossed some things in a bag” as though I’ve never been able to pack light. I always try to bring less — just the essentials. But, inevitably, I end up packing everything I thought of in the first place. At this point, overpacking isn’t a bad habit, it’s a personality trait.

When I got to town, I went back to my Friday night roots: helping the band at the football game. My highlight came when I got to carry the homecoming king’s crown while he marched with his trombone. I told him, “I’m not giving you this back, I hope you know.” I was not king material in high school, but honestly, this felt like a decent substitute.

After the game, I made my way to the office to catch up with Mike. We hadn’t seen each other since early August, though we’d kept up with our usual texts and calls. Seeing him in person, though — that’s different. There’s something unmistakable about sharing a laugh with my colleague, co-worker, friend, mentor, favorite cartoonist, and deranged compatriot. (Yes, he really does hold all those titles at once.)

I filled him in on some of my latest antics. For instance, I told him about the time I mentioned a woman in one of my columns and eventually asked her on a coffee date. The result? Not rejection. Worse. Flat-out silence. Mike thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. (Supportive, as always.)

We laughed about how different we are — me, the type A organizer, and him, the free-flowing type B. True to form, I walked into the office and immediately started cleaning and straightening things up while Mike began explaining the games he and his friends invented in my absence. The place wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t orderly either, and I can’t help myself. He provides the chaos, I provide the cleanliness.

Somewhere between picking up the floors, wiping away tears of laughter, and half-heartedly threatening to fight each other, four hours slipped by. We went from dumb jokes to serious discussions and back again, the kind of rhythm you fall into only with the people who just get you.

At the end of the night, I went home knowing two things: one, Mike and I should never be left alone with that much free time again, and two, it was exactly the kind of night I needed.

Until our next office adventure, I’m Just Jonathan.