Things have been going well here. I finally moved all of my clothes from the suitcase downstairs to a laundry basket in my room. Basically, my clothing has exploded all over the floor, where it will stay until I wash everything and pack for NYC.
I am thoroughly enjoying my chillaxing time, but I have been semi-productive!
Yesterday, I felt like I had transitioned into a band mom. I picked my brother and his bassoon protege up from the high school to take them to the ice rink. Of course, my brother is an airhead, and he did not have socks, so I needed to make a pit stop at our house. While my brother ran in to get said socks, I was in the car with a little freshman girl who I needed to entertain. I asked all of the mundane questions, and she was quiet and nervous. Which makes sense, really. I then realized that this could be my life in an indeterminate number of years...carpooling small children. My goal in life is to make a shit ton of money...not really for the money's sake, but so that I can work while my husband gets to do all those delightful errands. Because if I make more money than he does, then I don't have to work part time or any of that shit.
That is actually my train of thought.
Tonight after dinner, I told what is quite possibly one of my best stories to my family. It's not actually inappropriate, but I'm still not posting it here. I'll say this much:
Dad (in reference to my story): Only you would tell that to your parents.
Horray for sharing!
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