No one said, one day when you grow up you are going lose your dream job and all your money and your dignity and whatever certainty you had in yourself and, then, finally, when you're invited to live at your mom's house, it's going to be suddenly (for no good reason) upgraded to an invitation to live in the coach house, instead. The couch house, instead.
That's a whole house.
With two floors. A staircase. My god. I was excited about the hallway when I moved into this apartment. I'm still excited about the hallway (it's a really long hallway with doorways, a light fixture, and it's own echo).
But this.
This means all kinds of happy things.
This means I don't have to put all of my furniture into storage.
This means privacy.
This means a basement.
A basement. Just think of it. A dark, damp place downstairs where I can do the laundry as slowly as I like.
Where I'll be able to think.
Where I'll be able to stow my mops and brooms and everything I hate.
It's so good.
So why do I feel bad?
Because I haven't earned this. Because I never wanted a house.
Because I can't enjoy anything until I find a job.
And, you know, I will. The second I've moved to a suburb that I never wanted to live in - and into a house that I don't deserve.
I will.
You are Kinsey Milhone! Become a Private Dick and get a gun. (You look like I thought you would look like and that never happens - and just so you know I've always thought you would look amazingly cool)
ReplyDeleteThanks!
ReplyDeleteI love it when someone tells me to become a private detective - it happens rarely, but *oh* when it does..
:)
Beautiful you! And a house! Very nice indeed. And well, mom's do have a need to take care of their children...and it doesn't seem that the burbs will be so bad-though your burbs don't seem burby, more small neighborhood.
ReplyDelete*SQUEE*