Imagine the sound of a vacuum on hardwood floors, a radio on top notch, a washing machine spinning off balance, a dryer full of jeans churning, and a yapping Welsh Terrier.
And though it is eleven a.m. right now and I should not be sleeping, and I am not. Just imagine all of this at seven in the morning. And then imagine this every morning. And now you have a clear picture of life with the folks.
I have got to get out of here! And the funny part is, they don't understand any of that. Mom thinks I think living here is absolute hell. And sometimes it is, but most of the time it's really nice to be able to save some money and eat some yummy food and be around them, especially during the holidays. But really, she can't expect me to stay forever and she can't be mad because I want to leave. Right?
I mean, am I being completely rude and ungrateful by saying: "Mom and Dad thanks for letting me stay, it's been really nice, but it's time for me to move now. I'm 25 and I need to have my own space?" Is that rude, am I a horrible daughter?
I can't believe I even have to think about that. I want to occupy my thoughts with finding a house or building a sweet little beach box that looks something like this (see above, right). Only surrounded by sand. I mean, couldn't you imagine watching the sunset from that porch or even while making dinner in the kitchen. This open floorplan would be beautiful and perfect (see above, left). And there's a loft: which means extra room for overnight visitors! I mean really, this is all I need. Monk and LB and me would fit perfect here.
Now I only need to find a large enough lot, in the perfect location towards the end of Old Oregon Inlet Road with marsh and woods as my backyard. Oh and room for chickens. Oh and all of this under 80Gs. real estate gods, please help grant me my only wish. Oh and that I want to move in before April 1st!
Is it too much for a girl to ask for?
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