today's friday!
So yesterday I went out to lunch with my aunt (well, my uncle's fiancee, but they've been engaged forever and it's so burdensome to say "my uncle's fiancee" when she's practically my aunt. Though the irony of using a less burdensome term and then spending forty words explaining the terminology is not lost on me), and we were talking about my other cousins, especially Meg, who is three months younger than me, getting married in August, living in her own apartment with her finacee, and pursuing the career she's always wanted (teaching) with gusto. You know, the Anti-Jess.
I was doing the usual self-justification thing ("I wouldn't want to be married right now anyway," I said, "I mean, I'm happy for her and glad she's found someone she loves, but really, I enjoy living the life of a nun."), and then veered into the whole Living at Home Isn't *That* Bad thing. "It's nice to be able to get to know your parents as people," I said in my best Wise Old 22-Year Old Sage voice. "To be able to get beyond that whole you're not the boss of me stuff and just really have fun with them. You know?"
Flash forward to this morning:
Wise Mother: I mean, is it THAT much to ask? To CLEAN YOUR ROOM?
Mature Daughter: I guess not, I've just been VERY BUSY! And anyway, why does it matter? It's MY ROOM! No one goes in there! Just shut the door if you don't like it!
WM: The problem IS that it's a health hazard! All those books and magazines and clothes lying everywhere -- it's a FIRE HAZARD! That's the PROBLEM!
MD: What! That's crazy! You're just obsessed! You know what the problem is? YOU'RE INSANE!
[Door SLAMS shut as Mature Daughter stalks out her Mildly Ghetto Electric Blue Station Wagon, with Wise Mother shouting threats to throw out all the mail piled on the kitchen counter tomorrow, so Mature Daughter had better get her stuff out of there by tonight.]
Ah, good times. Good. Times.
I so felt twelve years old. And not in the fun, watching-Princess-Diaries, obsessing-over-NSYNC way.
Speaking of The Princess Diaries! New volume came out recently, I found out last night when I went to the bookstore! I so enjoyed those books last year when I was experiencing Thesis-Induced Stress-Related Psychosis. I was so excited last night to see a new volume (Volume IV), that I raced across the bookstore to show Jo and Anna, who both would actively not care but try to humor me as much as possible, because they're good buds like that.
"Check it out!" I said. "Volume IV! This is so exciting!"
"Ooh, is there going to be a sequel to that movie?" Jo said. "We totally have to see it, Jess. That and Legally Blonde 2."
"Of course!" I said.
"That reminds me, I meant to tell you," Anna said, "I was in the library the other day and this guy came in who's there a lot -- he's really sweet but also retarded, I think? He was taking The Princess Diaries out and going on and on about how much he loves them. Said that Princess Mia was really tough."
And then I think she realized she was likening my tastes to that of a developmentally disabled (though sweet) man at the same moment I did. Is it sad to say that it didn't really bother me? It probably should, since I've also taken to announcing what day it is to people at random moments ("It's Friday!") just like the developmentally disabled guy in the mailroom at my mother's office, Steve. Whenever I do it now, she says, "Okay, Steve" in her most indulgent voice and we both crack up. I should probably be more concerned about than amused by my recent behavior. I think this office is seriously eating my brain.
Anyhoo, people should be coming back from lunch soon and so I should probably act like a good productive worker. Hey! Today's my last day as a temp! As of next week, I'm on the office payroll, which means benefits, paid time off, and a nice little raise. AND I only signed on through the summer, so I'm not tied down, though they said I could stay as long as I like. It may be a boring evil law firm, but at least I worked out a decent deal with them.
And that is all for now.
I was doing the usual self-justification thing ("I wouldn't want to be married right now anyway," I said, "I mean, I'm happy for her and glad she's found someone she loves, but really, I enjoy living the life of a nun."), and then veered into the whole Living at Home Isn't *That* Bad thing. "It's nice to be able to get to know your parents as people," I said in my best Wise Old 22-Year Old Sage voice. "To be able to get beyond that whole you're not the boss of me stuff and just really have fun with them. You know?"
Flash forward to this morning:
Wise Mother: I mean, is it THAT much to ask? To CLEAN YOUR ROOM?
Mature Daughter: I guess not, I've just been VERY BUSY! And anyway, why does it matter? It's MY ROOM! No one goes in there! Just shut the door if you don't like it!
WM: The problem IS that it's a health hazard! All those books and magazines and clothes lying everywhere -- it's a FIRE HAZARD! That's the PROBLEM!
MD: What! That's crazy! You're just obsessed! You know what the problem is? YOU'RE INSANE!
[Door SLAMS shut as Mature Daughter stalks out her Mildly Ghetto Electric Blue Station Wagon, with Wise Mother shouting threats to throw out all the mail piled on the kitchen counter tomorrow, so Mature Daughter had better get her stuff out of there by tonight.]
Ah, good times. Good. Times.
I so felt twelve years old. And not in the fun, watching-Princess-Diaries, obsessing-over-NSYNC way.
Speaking of The Princess Diaries! New volume came out recently, I found out last night when I went to the bookstore! I so enjoyed those books last year when I was experiencing Thesis-Induced Stress-Related Psychosis. I was so excited last night to see a new volume (Volume IV), that I raced across the bookstore to show Jo and Anna, who both would actively not care but try to humor me as much as possible, because they're good buds like that.
"Check it out!" I said. "Volume IV! This is so exciting!"
"Ooh, is there going to be a sequel to that movie?" Jo said. "We totally have to see it, Jess. That and Legally Blonde 2."
"Of course!" I said.
"That reminds me, I meant to tell you," Anna said, "I was in the library the other day and this guy came in who's there a lot -- he's really sweet but also retarded, I think? He was taking The Princess Diaries out and going on and on about how much he loves them. Said that Princess Mia was really tough."
And then I think she realized she was likening my tastes to that of a developmentally disabled (though sweet) man at the same moment I did. Is it sad to say that it didn't really bother me? It probably should, since I've also taken to announcing what day it is to people at random moments ("It's Friday!") just like the developmentally disabled guy in the mailroom at my mother's office, Steve. Whenever I do it now, she says, "Okay, Steve" in her most indulgent voice and we both crack up. I should probably be more concerned about than amused by my recent behavior. I think this office is seriously eating my brain.
Anyhoo, people should be coming back from lunch soon and so I should probably act like a good productive worker. Hey! Today's my last day as a temp! As of next week, I'm on the office payroll, which means benefits, paid time off, and a nice little raise. AND I only signed on through the summer, so I'm not tied down, though they said I could stay as long as I like. It may be a boring evil law firm, but at least I worked out a decent deal with them.
And that is all for now.