I'm sleeping on a twin bed in the living room, and I haven't got so much as a kitchen table,
and I still already love living alone.
Not sure if I'll stay here. Begged the leasing office to rewrite my lease for 3 months instead of 14, on account of the bass 'n whistle duet the boiler below my unit likes to play into the bedroom all through the night. (It doesn't roar. It's more like a pesky fly buzzing around your head, in a scenario where you know it's going to be there forever and ever and ever.) Still, the place grows on me. It might be worth it to try out an area rug. Otherwise, I've got time to look for a job and a new place, and--alleluia--I'm not in Indiana anymore.
I bought an expensive pair of "omelette pans" (um, skillets?) that make me coo every time I get within a foot of them. Yay materialism! It's too bad there's so little glory in the whole housewife gig. Oh, and there's that whole thing with kids... Yeee. Still, cooking is fun. Making my own coffee is fun. It's fun to pretend I'm autonomous, and good to reflect on what a lot of bullshit that is. My family drove up a bunch of my stuff, and talked me out of moving without a bed. And Patrick and Jessica gifted me with several necessaries. I still chuckle every now and then, when I think how high school me would have taken the news that I'd someday receive gifts of knives, plates, champagne flutes and so forth, courtesy of his wedding to someone else. It was so good to see them both. More on that later, in fact.
Now, I'm off, at Connor's BRILLIANT invitation, to down a few glasses of mead and count myself retardedly, incredibly lucky. Salut!
Not sure if I'll stay here. Begged the leasing office to rewrite my lease for 3 months instead of 14, on account of the bass 'n whistle duet the boiler below my unit likes to play into the bedroom all through the night. (It doesn't roar. It's more like a pesky fly buzzing around your head, in a scenario where you know it's going to be there forever and ever and ever.) Still, the place grows on me. It might be worth it to try out an area rug. Otherwise, I've got time to look for a job and a new place, and--alleluia--I'm not in Indiana anymore.
I bought an expensive pair of "omelette pans" (um, skillets?) that make me coo every time I get within a foot of them. Yay materialism! It's too bad there's so little glory in the whole housewife gig. Oh, and there's that whole thing with kids... Yeee. Still, cooking is fun. Making my own coffee is fun. It's fun to pretend I'm autonomous, and good to reflect on what a lot of bullshit that is. My family drove up a bunch of my stuff, and talked me out of moving without a bed. And Patrick and Jessica gifted me with several necessaries. I still chuckle every now and then, when I think how high school me would have taken the news that I'd someday receive gifts of knives, plates, champagne flutes and so forth, courtesy of his wedding to someone else. It was so good to see them both. More on that later, in fact.
Now, I'm off, at Connor's BRILLIANT invitation, to down a few glasses of mead and count myself retardedly, incredibly lucky. Salut!