Oops I Did It Again.

It's moving dayyyyyyy.

Yup, my life is the ever shifting thought process.It never has time to be more than that. It's like I have severe ADD or something, because for the last 7 years I have moved at least once a year. ( wait for that to settle in, seven effing moves at the very least)

Imagine, taking all of your shit. Putting it in boxes, trash bags and even random suitcases and then un loading it. And now do that over and over again.

Oh and all over again.

That's what it is like to be me. Fuck. I haven't even been anywhere really cool.
I lived in L.A. but that is where the moving once a year started. And I have ended up in VA. Again. And again. This is a new low. The last three moves have been within 10 miles of each other. (Holy shit I am never getting out of this place.)

Talks of San Diego still linger. But honestly I am scared to do the whole West Coast on a whim move again. I'd rather go to Costa Rica for a few months. It is seemingly just a place for me to rest my head. I've not cultivated anything more from each place I live. (except an emptier wallet and some good my roommates suck stories.)

If I am just staying at one place to get to another you think I would come up with some cooler ideas than effing Northern Virginia. I grew up here for shit's sake.

So this week brings me to probably the least raucus of moves. The least jolting. But the most irritating.
I've spoken of my basement dwelling. And my lucky ass living with a kick ass family for free.

So why the hell am I moving into a tiny ass townhouse where I feel like nothing will be mine? I guess turning 24 means you have to grow up or something. Not live in other peoples basements. Even if it is for free.

Which is the stupidest way of growing up I can think of. Because the more I grow up the more money I need and.. uhh.. hello.. free means I keep the money I would be giving to some landlord. Duh.

Oh and from what I hear. Growing up ain't all it's cracked up to be. Fancy pants is trying to find a way to successfully regress from 33 backwards. (I told him he is not allowed to go younger than 29 though. I will be 28 by the time he Bejamin Buttons it all the way back to 29. And lord knows I can't date younger guys! Ha!)


Oh the mere thought of packing my clothes alone has me on the verge of tears.
(I do own way too many clothes and local charities reap the benefits of my less than yearly moves)

Oh and to top it off my brother so sweetly loaded some of his own shit into my storage unit and just like any good big brother, ran off with my key to the unit. Took my dyson vacuum and put his heavy ass stuff right in the way of all my stuff.
(FML.)

Oh no worries, I'm sure I can pull it off...little miss social butterfly who has so many friends can never count on anyone else to help her with this kinda stuff.
(
To be fair, once a year is less a favor and more of a type of employment. That I do not pay them for.)

The one upside... and it's crazy that this is so exciting to me but I get to put my Kitchen Aid mixer on the counter and freaking bake the hell out of anything I can throw into that sucker. I am more excited for that then not being kicked off the couch by 13 year old boys when I am watching the NCAA tournament to find out the final match up of the Final Four. I am a little excited to feel a space that is my own.

Although I am also pretty excited to know that I can invite someone back to my place now. (Mom, I meant friends! Only friends.)

Oh sweet baby jesus. Tiny 6 month old jesus.
Someone come find me under my laundry pile and help me move!


...stay tuned.