A crazy little week
Just as I thought it was going all right,
I find out I'm wrong, when I thought I was right.
It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all.
-Genesis
A week ago today, I visited a girl with whom I believed I was developing a relationship. I'd thought she wanted me to be more affectionate and romantic to her, so I tried to be. She didn't want it at all, and now she's only interested in being friends when she had previously talked about some thing more in the future.
Maybe. Kind of. It's all one continuous bath of grey to me anymore. The bottom line is this: we're not really going to be together any more from now on. I'm over it.
Then I got one hell of a shocker on Tuesday. The relatives I was staying with in Manhattan told me they wanted me to move out. Right away. Two months earlier they'd asked me to stay another year, but things change. I don't want to talk about them anymore.
I was on the road to Topeka at the time, but turned around because it seemed foolish to do shopping when I had an imminent relocation to deal with. Luckily, the constant moving I went through in the past two years gave me a nomadic mentality and within a few hours had checked out one potential place to stay packed my car as full as I could with my things.
The place I looked at is at the corner of Laramie and 17th Street in Manhattan. It's a single room in the home of this friendly retired couple who rent 3-5 of them out every school year. It's $275 a month, utilities paid.
My parents were happy to take me in, my mom had quite the list of chores in her head when I got home with my first load Tuesday. 48 hours after I left Manhattan that evening I had already emptied my room and put a deposit down on the room. There is no kitchen, but I can have a dorm fridge and a small microwave to use in my room. I'm cool with that. I'm taking six classes this fall, along with being Public Editor, so I doubt I really need anything more than a simple room where I can eat the occasional simple meal. The funny thing is, it's nextdoor to the apartment building in which I lived two years ago.
One of those chores my mom had was done tonight: We disassembled the old family swingset in our yard. I helped my father put that thing together years ago. It had since rusted and broken in many places, and it was unsafe for children. So Drew and I took it apart and loaded the pieces in our father's truck to go to the dump. We celebrated the end of father's day with a game of kickball in our backyard, with the diamond larger than before since the swingset was no more.
Drew and I went together on our dad's Father's Day gift: a big bottle of one of his favorite whiskeys. I lbelieve being 21 makes shopping for dads so much easier.
I find out I'm wrong, when I thought I was right.
It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all.
-Genesis
A week ago today, I visited a girl with whom I believed I was developing a relationship. I'd thought she wanted me to be more affectionate and romantic to her, so I tried to be. She didn't want it at all, and now she's only interested in being friends when she had previously talked about some thing more in the future.
Maybe. Kind of. It's all one continuous bath of grey to me anymore. The bottom line is this: we're not really going to be together any more from now on. I'm over it.
Then I got one hell of a shocker on Tuesday. The relatives I was staying with in Manhattan told me they wanted me to move out. Right away. Two months earlier they'd asked me to stay another year, but things change. I don't want to talk about them anymore.
I was on the road to Topeka at the time, but turned around because it seemed foolish to do shopping when I had an imminent relocation to deal with. Luckily, the constant moving I went through in the past two years gave me a nomadic mentality and within a few hours had checked out one potential place to stay packed my car as full as I could with my things.
The place I looked at is at the corner of Laramie and 17th Street in Manhattan. It's a single room in the home of this friendly retired couple who rent 3-5 of them out every school year. It's $275 a month, utilities paid.
My parents were happy to take me in, my mom had quite the list of chores in her head when I got home with my first load Tuesday. 48 hours after I left Manhattan that evening I had already emptied my room and put a deposit down on the room. There is no kitchen, but I can have a dorm fridge and a small microwave to use in my room. I'm cool with that. I'm taking six classes this fall, along with being Public Editor, so I doubt I really need anything more than a simple room where I can eat the occasional simple meal. The funny thing is, it's nextdoor to the apartment building in which I lived two years ago.
One of those chores my mom had was done tonight: We disassembled the old family swingset in our yard. I helped my father put that thing together years ago. It had since rusted and broken in many places, and it was unsafe for children. So Drew and I took it apart and loaded the pieces in our father's truck to go to the dump. We celebrated the end of father's day with a game of kickball in our backyard, with the diamond larger than before since the swingset was no more.
Drew and I went together on our dad's Father's Day gift: a big bottle of one of his favorite whiskeys. I lbelieve being 21 makes shopping for dads so much easier.
posted by Logan C. Adams at 6/18/2006 09:18:00 PM
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