Tuesday, July 24, 2012


Lindsay: The reason we’ve been slacking on posting stuff up here is because Jesse and I haven’t been around. Apparently, everything hilarious that happens in the house is a direct result of us, because nothing cool has happened since we’ve been gone. (Or Sara is just too lazy to keep track of it, which is equally as likely). We’re house-sitting for a co-worker of Jesse’s in Snohomish, and having our own house with just the two of us (plus an extra dog and cat who have both run away but come back on separate occasions… so we’re the worst house-sitters ever) has been nothing short of phenomenal. We have a bed – a fucking BED! For some of you, that is a given…and fuck you guys who don’t understand how awesome it is to have the privilege to sleep on a comfortable bed.

So we’re not sure how everyone else at the compound is doing, but it sounds like it’s been pretty quiet. But for us, it’s been great, so we really don’t care.

Sara: Yeah. Mostly just laziness. I’d try to play cool and pretend like we’ve been too busy having mind-blowing adventures with Mr. Tumnus in Narnia and shit…but who am I kidding?

So Lindsay and Jesse left…some amount of time ago. It could have been two weeks, a month, seven years…I don’t know. I don’t believe in days anymore. The point is: they left to stay in someone else’s house for a month.

I should really finish my morning coffee before writing these.

Anyways. Initially, Mom, Dad, and I were absolutely ecstatic to have less people inhabiting the compound, even temporarily. It meant that I didn’t have to concede the TV to Jesse so he could subject himself to a slow, painful, pointless death (read: watch baseball). It meant that I didn’t have to share my wardrobe with Lindsay. It meant that I could let my room get as messy as I want, and have another empty room to expand into when necessary.

There was one factor I didn’t anticipate: Dad. Mom and I relax at the end of the day similarly; we get alcohol of some form in our system and avoid interacting with people. Being a social human being stresses me out over the course of the day, and without at least an hour to myself, I become an absolutely terrible person.

Yes. I know. I’m an old, cantankerous lady. Let’s stop chuckling, pretend we’re mature, and move on, shall we?

Dad doesn't de-stress in this way. He’s an extrovert in every sense of the word. He unwinds with good conversation. And with two less people to hang out with at the end of the day, who do you think he’s turning to for that conversation?

Me. Never mind the fact that we work in the same office all day, or that his wife is in the next room, OR that I’m in the middle of aligning my chi with my spirit guide, Lemon, when he decides to step in front of the television and strike up a conversation. No. Each day after work he proceeds to talk my face off while I try to find my happy place where no one tries to talk to me while I eat string cheese and get drunk. Oh, and it doesn’t matter if I’m in the kitchen or in my room sitting on the Internet...he’ll find me to tell me that he thinks what’s-her-name’s post on Facebook is stupid.

It’s not his fault. Dad’s just bored. He got used to having people in all areas of the house at any given time for him to hang out with, and now he’s just got cranky versions of Mom and me. I try to remind myself of this whenever I start to fantasize about going full Kill Bill and poking him until his heart explodes.

So the moral of the story is…moving in with your parents after college will get you into a job faster than anything, if just to acquire the monetary ability to move as far away from them as you possibly can. And Lindsay and Jesse need to move back in. Quickly.

Oh. And drugs are bad, mkay?

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