Moving again...

Well, whadya know? I'm moving sooner than I thought. My "long-term" plan is to move in with my mom in Tejas as soon as my current temp gig is over so I can regroup my finances and find a legit job, maybe add another degree to the list. BUT it turns out that I will be moving before that, to another temporary location until I get to Texas: with my best friend!! My best friend has agreed to let me be a squatter in her spare room (and I get my own bathroom!!!) until I move to Texas. She's super busy so we might not get to see each other much before I leave, unless we live together. Plus, she won't mess with my STUFF and nag about the dishes (hopefully, haha). Either way, we're closer so we can communicate about things in a much better fashion. I'll just bitch slap her if she touches my stuff and she'll hold my face under water if I get too mouthy. That's what BFFs do. It's harder to do those things with a stranger you're living with.

As long as I've lived in STL (a little over seven months), I have yet to feel like I'm not a guest in my own house. And that's a really weird feeling when you don't really know the person you're living with, and everything in the house is hers, and she's all settled, and she feels she has the right to move your stuff around. SO, I figure, living as a guest with my best friend for three to four weeks has to be better than that, right?

Now if only her pool was already open....then this situation would hit an all-time high.

The crazy thing is, I have spent almost as much time at my BFF's apt (with or without her being there) as I've spent in my own house. I prefer to only be home for sleeping and getting ready for the day. All other times I would try to be with friends, at the gym, at the library, shopping, volunteering -- pretty much ANYWHERE else. Except that one time we had Netflix. Then I didn't mind sitting at home all day watching X-Files. And I have had a key to my BFF's apt since before I moved out here, so I can just pop in whenever. When I was unemployed for a couple weeks, I spent every day at her apt, using her computer, searching for jobs. I didn't feel like sitting next to some crazy at the library, using germ-infested computers that I had to sign into every hour. Call me picky, whatever.