Don't Call it a Comeback

I've been here for months...I just haven't been writing.But now I am back by popular demand. I've been moving, residing in my ivory tower and living with my golden handcuffs...and it's been awesome.

So, we moved! Only from Provo to Highland (Alpine, UT) to live with our family friends the Lewises. We are paying a small fee to rent a bathroom and bedroom in their basement while they buy groceries and cook for us. Its freaking like living at home, except sleeping in a kingsize tempurpedic bed instead of your 15 year old queen size mattress that you used to have sleepovers with your cousins with. I mean...not to brag, but just this morning I had a cup of Oddawalla orange juice. Do you even know how much that junk costs? Like I said, golden handcuffs.

The move itself was not as golden as our current living situation though. I would get really emotional thinking about moving out of our condo (old ladies would call it our love nest but that phrase kinda creeps) but the actual act of moving was so horrendous that by the end I just wanted to be done and OUT. I want to say that I cannot believe how much crap we stockpiled up, but I really was aware of how much stuff we had. I just didn't do the math of stuff+physical movement+boxes=nightmare. And the cleaning aspect was even worse. I gagged a few times because of some hazardous material in and behind our fridge. Luckily my darling father-in-law cleaned that nast for me while I stood over the sink just in case i puked. How cute. But seriously, I'm not kidding.

Looking for apartments in L.A. actually makes me want to gag and stand over the sink just like the toxic waste in the provo fridge. Prices are disgusting and are only matched by the truly disgusting apartments for rent. I'm talking $1750 for an apartment recently renovated in 1965. I can practically see the dead body outlines from the blurry pictures posted online. And that, ladies and gentleman, is why I want to cry thinking about moving from our Provo condo to an LA hovel who's previous tenants were a psuedo vampire cult.

On a more positive note, working full time makes me think about the story Peter Pan a lot. And also Billy madison. whenever someone says how excited they are to graduate I want to take their chubby face in my hands and shake some nonsense into them by saying "Stay...stay as long as you can!!! Never leave!! Never grow-up!!" Every morning I wake up and think, "there is no way in hell I am going to work today." Yet somehow every morning I'm walking through the Brainstorm doors and eyeing the diet coke at 8:30 in the morning.

Don't get me wrong, I don't HATE my job or my co-workers. I HATE mornings. And I've also come to realize that working is like living with room mates again. Half the time you're laughing and having fun, whereas the other half you're screaming at someone for drinking your milk. Wait, was I the only room mate who did that? whatever. Working is also like finals though, and no simile or metaphor needed for that. You can figure that one out.

So, for my one follower out there in the universe who reads this, we accidentally packed our cameras, along with all of my clothes for the summer, so I don't think we'll get any pictures up. You'll just have to read my vapid and shallow words.