Its moving time AGAIN. Good gravy. Didn't I just do this 2 months ago? Yes. I did. Fucking Fuck.
I decided after 2 months here in my cute little studio that I have to get the fuck out. Don't get me wrong I love this little place. I however DON'T love the ants, the barking dogs, the cat poop in the laundry room, the ridiculously messy garage that I have to walk through to get to my room, the nearly $600/month rent that "included" cable and internet (and by cable i guess they mean the only 12 channels you get by NOT having a digital cable converter, and by internet they mean the barely there wireless signal that I was never able to connect to and then the 3 weeks of them trying to hardwire my room for internet in which I had to go to a coffee shop to do my daily interneting.) Oh, and let's not forget the snake incident.
The real point of my blog today is this:
How many mother fucking times in my life am I going to have to move my mother fucking high school year books?!
I mean really. I haven't actually looked at them in like 8 years. And I have 5 of them! (no, I wasn't a super senior, I just went to 2 different schools, and got 1 from each in one year). Its one of those things that I never want to get rid of them, but I'm so tired of having to move them. THEY'RE HUGE, hardbound heavy fuckers and I'm honestly just sick of them!! I want to just dump them off at my mom's house and just pick them up when (hopefully many many many many many moons in the future) pick them up when my brother and I go through her things after her funeral. Seriously, that's how badly I want them out.
Am I alone here? Is there anything in your life you've moved 9895028934 gazillion times and wish there was a safety deposit box for such things?