Growing Up

My friends are buying houses.  They have guest rooms and potpourri (sp?).  They have duvet covers and dogs and and all sorts of French sounding things.

I live in an apartment.  One-bedroom.  If you missed it, you can see it here.  I don’t have decorations (not for Christmas, or really any time) and it honest to God feels really weird that my mom and my brother are coming today to shop and then spend the night with me.  I mean, I have a couch and stuff, and extra places for people to sleep, but I don’t have a potpourri guest room with a duvet and sound machine with a “Streets of Paris” file.

I want all that.  I want a big farm house with tons of bedrooms and hardwood floors.

Dangit.

 

That’s all.