I live at home.
That’s not a complaint. I’m owning it, I’m not that old, makes financial sense, family issues, blah blah blah. And guess what suckas? In five years when you move back in with Mom and Dad because you have exorbidant student loans and no jobs? I’ll be moving into a nicely appointed appointment ALL BY MYSELF. So yeah, I’ll talk to you then.
But anyways, the only part I’m not absolutely thrilled about (except for the fact that my parents decided the Boonies was a good place to settle) is that I do actually share a room with my little sister. Which is embarrassing. A little bit. It worked fine when we moved in when we were 11 and 9, but at 20 and 18? Notsomuch.
So I don’t remember why I was whining about it (Oh wait. Yes I do. But in the interest of family relations, I’m not mentioning it.), but I was whining, and my mom’s all, “OMG IDEA!!! Do you want the den?”
I think I was offered this once like a bunch of years ago, but then The Crazy moved in (person, not thing, which currently lives with us) and I was an emotionally scarred child who didn’t want to sleep on the first floor ALL BY MYSELF OMG.
But now it’s sounding pretty good. I could repaint with paint that doesn’t have little clouds, buy wallpaper that doesn’t have horses, and have doors that actually closed. And did I mention it’s connected to my bathroom, like a real grown-up bedroom!?!?!
(And room for a bookshelf. Which is massively exciting, because my book situation? Has gotten out of hand. I now have every single mass market paperback piled on the ends of shelves, and then two stacks of unread books on a table downstairs.)
(Ugh. And I’m getting another one from Amazon today. Will I never learn?)
(But that’s not the point.)
Teensy weensy little baby problem. You know that emotionally scarred child? Is now an emotionally scarred young adult. And those clouds? She painted with her mom. And the horse wallpaper? She picked out because horses were her absolute favorite things ever. And the doors closing? Well, okay, there is no downside to the door.
So I can’t even think about doing this until spring break because you know those family issues mentioned above? Means that I’m the only one who can do the work unless I ransom my cousin and frankly he takes enough heat from the earlier generations. I shall have to think about it.
But would you like to know my major objection? If I move downstairs, Colleen will get my room. And, well, if you’ve ever met her? It’s tantamount to the British troops pulling out of Normandy, leaving the Paris of my beloved room open to her Nazi disorganization.
I don’t think she’ll kill any minorities though.