(no subject)
Did you know that I'm living with my parents again? I am. Did you know that I'm getting ready to STOP living with my parents again? I am. Mentally. Financially? Not so much. Although maybe kind of.
Really, the worst part about it is not living with them, but living in the suburbs. I drive into the city 6-7 days a week. It's exhausting. And environmentally irresponsible.
The second to worst part about living with my parents is living with their dog. I love Sophie, I truly do. She's adorable and sweet when she's not TOTALLY INSANE. Whenever I leave the house, she barks and runs at and attacks the front door as I'm closing it. The bottom of the door is a chewed-up mess, there are wood shavings on the floor. Lately, my approach to this insanity is to ignore it and not let it upset me, as it used to. I don't try to make her stop, I just continue on my way. Today, that little bitch bit and pushed that door with so much force that I couldn't get my fingers out of the way in time and she slammed them. Hard.
I mean, I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but I cried like a 7 year old. For a good five minutes, as I alternated between running my hand under cold water and cursing her out. She continued to bark as I cried. Finally I screamed at her with such terrifying venom that she tucked her tail between her legs and scurried off into my mom's room.
I'm 80% convinced that the next place I live in will be just for me. I will reserve a space near the biggest window for my yoga mat and a tiny altar for candles and incense. I will purchase a bed and a desk. The desk will go near the second biggest window. I will take a good amount of the furniture that's lying around my parents' house, not being used, and furnish my very own place. It will be cozy and lovely and I will cook in it and invite people over for dinner.
I'll let you know when that happens.
Really, the worst part about it is not living with them, but living in the suburbs. I drive into the city 6-7 days a week. It's exhausting. And environmentally irresponsible.
The second to worst part about living with my parents is living with their dog. I love Sophie, I truly do. She's adorable and sweet when she's not TOTALLY INSANE. Whenever I leave the house, she barks and runs at and attacks the front door as I'm closing it. The bottom of the door is a chewed-up mess, there are wood shavings on the floor. Lately, my approach to this insanity is to ignore it and not let it upset me, as it used to. I don't try to make her stop, I just continue on my way. Today, that little bitch bit and pushed that door with so much force that I couldn't get my fingers out of the way in time and she slammed them. Hard.
I mean, I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but I cried like a 7 year old. For a good five minutes, as I alternated between running my hand under cold water and cursing her out. She continued to bark as I cried. Finally I screamed at her with such terrifying venom that she tucked her tail between her legs and scurried off into my mom's room.
I'm 80% convinced that the next place I live in will be just for me. I will reserve a space near the biggest window for my yoga mat and a tiny altar for candles and incense. I will purchase a bed and a desk. The desk will go near the second biggest window. I will take a good amount of the furniture that's lying around my parents' house, not being used, and furnish my very own place. It will be cozy and lovely and I will cook in it and invite people over for dinner.
I'll let you know when that happens.