Lately my life has been drama free, like so drama free that I have found myself contemplating really stupid shit. Yesterday, I expressed my desire to Lucky to have a cooler last name. My Dad’s side of the family is half Native American half English, unfortunately for us – my Grandpa’s side is the English side, so I got stuck with a really common boring last name, like Smith. But what I really want to be is Dutch so I can have a cool last name like, Van der Groot or something awesome like that.
In other words, I need some excitement in my life. It’s gotten so bad that even my parents are kind of annoyed with me texting them from the next room to say, “What are you dooooing in there?” My sister started 3rd grade this week and even she doesn’t want to play with me after work. It’s time to move out.
My dear old friend Betty is also moving out of her apartment with her live in boyfriend, The Douchebag, because he told her to go. She got the brilliant idea that we should live together, with her 4 year old. A-no-thank-you.
For starters, I’m not down to live with a child when it’s not related to me. Especially when that child gets up with the sun at 5am. Second, Betty wants to live in our hometown, where she works. I live there now, but don’t work there and I absolutely do not plan on staying there permanently. I’ve told her this, but she’s persistent and has even taken it upon herself to find us a nice 5 bedroom log cabin nestled away on 15 acres.
After I thought about this some more I realized that my wanting to sleep in and not spend Saturday’s up top my John Deere tractor mowing the fields shouldn’t be the reason not to live with Betty and Dot. My reason to not live with them should be because her daughter needs a stable environment. Not that I wouldn’t take part in providing that (lets be honest, I like to get drunk and cuss so I’m not a good influence), but Betty needs to show her daughter that she can take care of them on her own and that they don’t need anyone else.
I hope you can all help me celebrate this mature revelation I’ve had. I think I’m ready to call myself an adult. [After I move out of my parent’s house.]
On a completely unrelated note, I am quite upset with people that own storage units. When I moved back from the big city I had to get one because I have some stuff and all my stuff wouldn’t fit in my sister’s toy room that now doubles as my bedroom. First, I was upset that it costs $60 a month to rent a tiny room that is barely big enough to walk in and turn around in. Second, my storage place called me today to inform me that my first month’s storage unit rent was at a discounted price because I was new, and now it gets jacked up to $84 a month, and if I don’t want to rent it anymore I have 6 minutes to come and get my crap. Come to find out, this is just how storage unit places are. Shady. So I bitched and moaned and paid the $84 and now I’m telling you about it. And you know what I’m going to do about it? Nothing, because like your parents tell you when you want to come home early from sleep-away camp, I paid for my shit to stay in that unit and by God it’s going to stay there until the time is up!