Last Thursday I embarked on a journey. I moved into a giant apartment with two other girls. I’ve lived alone (for the most part) for the past 5 years and although living with others will help me save dollars, it will be something to get used to. Especially since these girls are 24 and 21 and full of energy. I’ve already said, “when I was your age” three too many times in the past few days. Nothing makes you feel older than “remembering when”. As an added bonus to the two gorgeous, thin women I’m now living with, the girls who moved into the other half of the duplex are also in their early 20s, thin and gorgeous. What’s already happening is something I call “The Goblin Effect”. Even at my best, I’ll look like a scary goblin around any of my roomies or neighbors. It should be a pretty good run.
I warned the girls I’m living with that I blog what I know, and they were about to become just that. They both agreed that I was free to write about them as long as I don’t use their real names, so I agreed to let them pick their pseudonyms. Aerial and Jasmine are sure to be staples of many blogs to come because they’re certainly characters. Disney characters. I guess that would make me Snow White (after one too many apples).
While there are many things the three of us can agree on (New Girl is an amazing show, Mindy Kaling is our spirit animal, Spice Girls Pandora saves lives…etc) there are definitely points of contention. For instance, I’m not fit or energetic. And at times I’m downright surly. Jasmine never stops moving and she even teaches a yoga class in town. Aerial, who asked me to point out that she is not a redhead (anywhere), frequents literally every bar I hate in the area. This doesn’t make them bad people. It just makes them wrong. Kidding, of course. It just means that maybe I’ll try yoga (if I’m drunk) and that Aerial and I will never be at the same bar. Ever. Now that I think about it, avoiding going out together is a great way to combat the “Goblin Effect”. Although, Aerial woke up at the early hour of 9:30 on Sunday morning after a rauceous night out and proudly announced to me that she was heading to “hot yoga”. I fell asleep playing Candy Crush the night before and I still had to lay on the couch for two hours before I was ready to walk into the kitchen for food. She came home, refreshed and beaming and asked if I wanted to have a “Sunday Funday”. Uh…duh. Bloody Mary bars are my everything. But then I had to nap while she continued being productive at work and didn’t come home until the wee hours of this morning. Youths. I don’t know how they do it.
Overall, I like the new area better than the hipster-laden cesspool from whence I came. Most of the people who pass our big front porch are friendly, I’ve already met more than five neighbors and only one sketchy dude asked me for money-or-beer-or-cans-or-cigarettes.
I haven’t seen my cats since I moved them in, but I’m guessing they’re settling in nicely in that smelly crawlspace in the basement. I look forward to dealing with the musty fur when they get comfortable enough to explore and pee on my things.