Playing house

I've hung pictures and put away all the dishes yet I still somehow feel like I'm playing house, and there is no way this is my home. I'm going to wake up and I will have to trudge back to the sorority house with it's cook and housekeepers and everyone up in my business, the studio living with everything in one room, and constant noises from drunk college students.

Moving, to say the least, was not hard. It went fairly easily and the main worry, the couch not fitting through the door, was not an issue. We didn't even have to take the door off, it just slid right in. With the help of Dan and Ben, strapping boyfriends of my girlfriends. Although Dan did catch his finger on a staple and cut himself (which I feel awful about).

But then there was the crying, on my part. Oh, the crying. Why? Because I'm a hormonal ninny who felt like some sort of glutonous american for having so much goddamn stuff. Goddamn stuff I could never locate when I needed it, which made the crying worse. Mom took it all in stride like the moving champ that she is, at one point she told me to go take a nap and an hour later when I got up she was down on her hands and knees scrubbing my floors. Seriously. Scrubbing my floors.

I thank god every day I came out of her body because how much does she rock?

Earlier in the day we had gone for breakfast at this little bakery and were sitting outside when a friend of mine stopped by to say hi. After chatting with him for a few minutes he took his leave and my mom turns to me:

Mom: He's cute.
Me: Yes, he's very cute.
Mom: He has really nice teeth.
Me: (laughing) Is he horse? Why were you checking out his teeth?
Mom: Oh god, you are going to tell him I said that aren't you?
Me: I so am

I've been sitting on this post since Monday, trying to be funny and witty in the hopes that it will make the internets at large like me more but I'm just too tired to try to make it so anymore. My brain function feels cut off, like there is a problem with my neurons firing in sequence instead I mostly end up blankly staring at the open word document without a coherant thought to put down.




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