Things My Mom Was Right About: Laundry

So I’m going to try to do one installment a week of “Things My Mom Was Right About” simply because being 23 years old, I’m noticing that my mom is not a wizard, she is, wait for it, an experienced adult who is also a mom. 

Basically, mom does not equal wizard.

Still not totally convinced.

 

But this week I have discovered the power of sorting laundry. 

I used to throw all of my clothes together and wash it on the hottest temperature with a ton of oxy clean and detergent (hypoallergenic of course because I’m allergic to freaking everything) and my clothes would fade abnormally fast, my whites were a variety of colors, and I was always itchy.

My mom kept telling me that if I wanted to get a stain out, I had to soak the stain in cold water then spray it, then wash it with like colors.

I kept blowing her off and said “Seriously mom, I know that’s not true.  You’re just a wizard.  Don’t deny it.”

And she’d admit to being a wizard, because she’s awesome like that. 

So a few weeks ago I decided to start sorting my laundry and washing the brights in cold, the whites in hot water with bleach and the right amount of detergent, and even adding in fabric softener.

Holy hell.

Not only are my clothes not fading so fast, but my whites look… white.  The stains are coming out.  And I’m not nearly as itchy as I was.

Mom ISN’T a wizard.

Sorting the laundry DOES work.

Mind=blown.

I will be posting more stuff about how I’m an awkward northerner in the south, but I haven’t had too many awkward things happen as of late.  I’m currently only working a part time job and I really avoid leaving my house, but I’m going to start going to coffee shops and talking to strangers to see what happens. 

So, internet, tell me, what is something that your parents told you that you ignored them about until you were well into your adult years?  Anything?  I have an entire list. 

Like what you read?  Follow me on facebook!  I post odd news articles from southern states and encourage discussions, as well as post blog updates.

Why My Husband is the Best Husband Ever, Y’all

This is my husband

Alex, right before he joined the military and got insanely hotter

Alex, right before he joined the military and got insanely hotter

He is a very tall man, standing at around 6’7.  His eyes are insanely blue, and as you can tell, he’s devilishly handsome.

I’ll be totally honest, I do not deserve this man.  He’s fantastic, but let me tell you what brought on this strange blog post.

I have many friends who shall remain nameless who post stuff on Facebook all the time talking about how they have the best husband in the world.  I always smile when I see these things, because it shows that chivalry isn’t dead and that these couples appear to really love each other.

Here are a few examples of my why friends husbands are the “best husbands alive.”

“Hubby called me from the flight line today to say hi and that he missed me, best hubby ever!”

“Hubby came into my work today with flowers just because he thought I’d like them, best hubby ever!”

“Hubby made dinner.  I know it was only take and bake pizza and he burnt it, but he tried, so he’s the best hubby ever!”

“Came home to the hubby having done the dishes!  Yes, he did a terrible job but it’s the thought that counts!  Best hubby ever!”

Now, I see these and I smile, because I think it’s very cute.  But I also know that I totally have the best hubby ever, and here’s why.

 

1.  He doesn’t kill my hair with fire.

I have insanely bushy, thick, uncontrollable hair.  The devil himself decided to punish me by giving me hair that he deemed more uncontrollable than a war mongering a-hole.

Observe.

Me, just after waking up.

Me, just after waking up.

This is what he wakes up to every morning.  First time he saw it he tried not to scream, and when he tried to run his fingers in my hair, we almost had to cut my hair around his fingers because my hair is so ungodly thick.  Hair straighteners tremble with fear at the thought of my hair, and no matter how I get my hair cut, no matter what products I use in my hair, no matter how long or short it is, it just refuses to work with me.*

2. He cleans the house… To military standards

Let me tell you a story.

When I was living on my own, you could not see the floor of where I was living.  My roommates called my bedroom “the pit” because you could get lost from all the crap in my room.  I had two patches of floor you could see and it took a lot of jumping and maneuvering to get from the door to the bed.

Alex, however, is a neat freak, and I mean this in the nicest possible way.  No bedspread would dare wrinkle under Alex’s watch.  When we were first dating, I would go to his dorm room and be afraid to touch anything from how clean and orderly it was.  He cleaned the kitchen floor with a toothbrush for crying out loud.  Everything had a set, exact spot.  The bedspread looked like it was ironed on his bed.  His clothes were organized by color, sleeve length and formality.  I wish I were kidding about this, but I’m not.

So when we got married, he was excited because his thoughts were along the lines of, “Yay!  I’ll have help cleaning!”

My thoughts were, “Yay!  I’m never going to have to clean again or live in filth again!”

As you can imagine, this is really the only thing we ever fight about.

When he cleans, you can eat off the floors. He does dishes so well that they sparkle.  He even sorts the laundry and gets stains out.

This man is a God.

 

3.  He’s hilarious

IF you haven’t seen my Christmas card that we sent out this year, go read this right now.  What was even better about that instance, it was partially his idea and when I said, I would love to do it, he said “HELLS YES WE’RE DOING THIS!”

And so we did.

RAWR BITCHES!

RAWR BITCHES!

In addition he helps me embarrass family members when they visit or when we visit them.  We got our mom to run away from us in Target*

4.  He doesn’t try to stab me with a rusty spoon for messing up the kitchen.

I know I mentioned cleaning and how I’m a slob and how he’s a neat freak, but it is impossible for me to keep the kitchen clean. I try, I really do, but I just can’t do it.  I even worked in a kitchen and all of my coworkers told me that I was the messiest possible cook they ever worked with.

All I made was a bowl of cereal...

All I made was a bowl of cereal…

This is my kitchen.  This picture isn’t even staged (except the chair, I put the chair there on purpose).  When he saw me taking this picture, he got pretty mad.  Something along the lines of “WHY ARE YOU SHOWING THIS TO PEOPLE?!”

I dunno, I wasn’t really listening.

5.  He cooks… better than me

When I first got married I gained over 30 pounds in three months.  Now, everyone says that this is your “happy weight” from when you first get married, but I blame his cooking ability.

You see, he’s a culinary school grad.  He’s a mother fucking chef.  For Christmas he’s cooking a Christmas Goose.  Goose.  Who the hell makes goose?  This guy does.

6.  He’s weird.

I know this is a weird reason, but hear me out.  I’m borderline crazy with how weird I am.  I moved to Fairbanks, AK, willingly.  And I stayed up there after two years of college.  I decided I’d rather have dogs than kids because I like dogs better.  I have no filter when I talk.  I’m educated and I’ll still take the cheap whiskey over a fine wine.  When I shop, even when I could afford it, I went straight for the clearance rack at Walmart and I have shoes where the soles are literally falling off and broken, but since they’re comfortable I still wear them.  I wear mens clothes half the time because they’re comfortable, I curse like a sailor, and I’ll go grocery shopping in a parka, slippers and basketball shorts.

I’m very weird.

And he’s weirder.

He’s awkward, which is what I love about him.  He’s a dungeon master, a nerd through and through.  He likes anime, talks in movie quotes, owns 30+ board games, and always challenges me to be weird in every aspect of my life.

And he doesn’t care that I’m weird, because he still loves me.

Thanks Alex, for being the best husband ever.  Here’s to three years together!

Like what you read?  Follow me on facebook!  I’ll be posting strange news and blog updates there!

*I don’t give my hair enough credit.  I know how to kind of put my hair in a pony tail and I forget to brush it half the time, but even when I do my hair is like NOPE YOU SHALL DIE!

* I’m giving my mom far too much credit, she always ditches us in the store.  However, the last time she did it, Alex and I decided to run up and down the aisles while screaming “MOOOOOOOOOM!  MOOOOOOOOOM!” in a very nasal voice, to which she magically appeared behind us, hissing, “What?  Shut up!” It was awesome.  She doesn’t ditch us anymore.

Why Being A Housewife Sucks

So my mom pointed out that I cuss far too often for my own good, so every time I want to say the “f” word, I’m going to put “FLUFFY BUNNIES”

So I recently quit my job at the bowling alley due to conflicting interests.  Probably the best decision I ever made, and I’m currently doing stocking at a store where nobody bothers me and I’m left to my own devices.  It’s FLUFFY BUNNIES awesome.

 

So here is my FLUFFY BUNNIES list of why it FLUFFY BUNNIES sucks to be a housewife.

1.You get Filipino Vision

I swear, I’m not racist.  I usually call it “Gina” vision because I worked with a Filipino lady named Gina who would always clean.  This woman’s house was so clean, you could eat off her floors.  She would work for eight hours then go home and clean for another eight.  She once canceled a vacation to Denali National Park so she could clean her house.  When I called her once, she said she was cleaning and I even said “What the FLUFFY BUNNIES are you cleaning?” and she would say, in a dark, hissing voice, “Everything is dirty.”

I always imagined Gollum from lord of the rings when she said that.  “Must clean the precious house… SO DIRTYYYY”

2.  You go out of your way to make elaborate food only to be afraid to eat it

This probably makes absolutely no sense to those who are not conscious of your weight.  I’m a chubby girl.  I refuse to go up another pant size.  Last time I went up a pant size, I found out in a fitting room and Alex had to hug me while I cried in the fitting room.  So I’ve been cautious when cooking tasty foods because I know that if it’s delicious, I will devour every single FLUFFY BUNNIES bite.  Chocolate never lasts more than an hour at my house.  I can’t buy chocolate or I eat all of it.  But lately, I’ve been making bread.  And while I’m not a bread person, it’s impossible to resist fresh bread out of the oven.

3.  The cleaning never ends

Maybe I’m a horribly sloppy person, maybe I have a haunted house, I don’t know.  I’m pretty sure that my dogs grow hands when we sleep and destroy everything in the house and I’m too forgetful to notice.  I spent three hours straight cleaning today, and I can already tell I’ll be spending at least another three FLUFFY BUNNIES hours cleaning the house.

4.  You never stop brushing the dog

My poor dogs.  I’ve been brushing them everyday so there isn’t fur on everything.  The bitches clogged my FLUFFY BUNNIES vacuum.

Alright, no more fucking FLUFFY BUNNIES.  I’m done with it.

5.  You’re bored out of your mind.

Seriously, how did fifties housewives do this?  I’ve been doing this for two weeks and I’m about ready to stab Alex with a rusty spoon.  I’ve been told that kids help, but I’m not getting knocked up so I’m not bored anymore.  I’m working on getting a new job that’s full time, and I’m a full time student, and I do this, but fucking seriously, I sleep all the time to pass the time.

I can’t think of anything else, but if anyone can come up with anything else, please share.  WHY WOULD BEING A HOUSEWIFE SUCK DONKEY BALLS?!

Thanks y’all.

Merry Christmas! (From the Velociraptors)

So Alex and I decided to get Christmas portraits done since we haven’t had pictures done since last year, and we forgot to get prints of them (but they’re on facebook!) and before that we had pictures done at our wedding.  So the entire three years together, we’ve had pictures done twice.  We felt that since we couldn’t really afford to get gifts for many of our friends and family this year, that we would get pictures done (it was only $20 for 64 prints, you can’t beat that), so we dressed up nice, I straightened my hair and did my make up, and off we went to get pictures done!

While sitting in the waiting room to do the pictures, we were looking at all of the example portraits on the walls, and Alex and I decided to do our normal thing of completely weirding out.

Alex: Dude, wouldn’t it be funny if they had totally retarded pictures on the wall?

Me: Yeah, or just the worst possible shots and be like “Don’t get these pictures done”

Alex: Or maybe of velociraptors, or velociraptor faces and be like “We have a sense of humor too”

Me: Oh my god… Velociraptor Christmas cards

Alex: OH MY GOD WE HAVE TO DO THAT!

Me: AND GET THE 10X13 PICTURE OF THAT FOR US!

 

So while we were doing the pictures and the poses, our photographer was absolutely awesome.  We have a habit of making everyone laugh, but I think they’re usually laughing at us because we’re just so weird.  We did a few silly pictures, but we couldn’t stop laughing posing for the velociraptor pictures.

So the time came where we had to choose which pictures we wanted for the cards and for the portfolio prints.  When we saw the velociraptor picture, we knew we had to use those for the Christmas cards.  It was then we found out that we were only allowed one picture for the entire portfolio.

I also found out that for an additional $14, I could get 20 extra Christmas cards with any picture I wanted.

 

RAWR BITCHES!

RAWR BITCHES!

 

Our mothers didn’t know that we bought additional Christmas cards, and so we sent out the velociraptor card to everyone we knew.

I was expecting my mother to flip out on me, which is kind of what I was hoping for.  I was certain my mother in law would shrug it off and laugh.

Their reactions were actually flipped.  While my mother in law didn’t flip out, her response was “That better hell not be the real picture because I am NOT putting that on my wall for everyone to see!”  to which Alex and I couldn’t hold it in any longer and were dying from laughing so hard.

My mother is a hard woman to rattle.  She just saw it and said “I know that this isn’t the real picture.”

None the less, several friends have gotten a good kick out of it.  I’m glad they enjoyed it.

So what do YOU all think of the Velociraptors?

 

Also, I would like to thank Portrait Innovations for doing such a FANTASTIC job on our portraits.  Your staff was so courteous and if there is a portrait innovations near you, I highly recommend you.  They had great deals, they were friendly and offered the best service I have ever had from a photography session.

How the Hunger Games Saved My Marriage: Part III

So we didn’t find a hotel in Montana.  And every hotel we went into between great falls and Medora, ND, had vacancy signs but the people at the desks were total dicks.  By the time we got to Medora, it was around ten in the morning and we decided to say “Fuck it, we’re just going to Grandma’s from here.”

I decided to drive from Medora to Fargo because I had done that drive before with my family. 

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Medora, if you ever get the chance to visit, I suggest it.  It’s in the bad lands in North Dakota and it’s a very pretty landscape of endless fields and the painted canyons.  The musical there is breathtakingly wonderful, the old fashioned pictures are great, and there’s lots to do if you’re there for a day or two.  I highly recommend it.  I’ve been there a few times and I would love to go again in the near future.

 

Anyway, since Alex isn’t really big on sight seeing, he decided to sleep while I drove.  While I had chosen to drive so he could enjoy the beauty that is North Dakota (I don’t care what anyone says, NoDak is beautiful).

At around one PM, we drive through Bismark, to which I decide it’s time to call Grandma and let her know that we’re halfway across NoDak.

Me: Hey Grandma, we’re in Bismark!

Grandma: Okay.  So when will you be here?

Me: Uh… How far is Bismark from Fargo?

Grandma: I dunno, not too far I don’t think.  I’ll have dinner ready at five.  Get here by five.

Me: Uh… okay.

 

So we keep driving and once we get into Fargo I am totally confused.  Fargo had doubled in size the last time I had gone there.  To which Alex, of course, is teasing me.

Alex: I thought you knew Fargo really well.

Me:  I’ve never known it really well, but nothing is the same.  WHERE THE FUCK AM I?!

So I go onto google maps which has caused Alex to take away my driving privelages, which is when we notice Luna.

Luna is shaking in the backseat.  Her tail is wagging and her ears are up.  We’re confused until we realize that the rolling fields of grass look like a giant dog park to her, since the dog park in Alaska was always in a large grassy field.

We roll our eyes.  She thinks that after four days of straight driving we’re at a giant dog park.  Poor girl.

We get to grandma’s to which we arrived ten to five, where grandma was putting food on the table.

Now, I’m pretty sure my grandma is a Wizard.

You see, she was a farmer’s wife for 47 years, and about nine years ago my grandpa died, but she never lost that farmer’s wife mentality.  On top of that, she’s a full blooded Norwegian and has a really thick Minnesota accent and honestly looks like a grandma.  She has the big glasses, short curly white hair, a few inches shorter than me, pleasantly plump, and has a very distinguishable laugh that I adore.  She fits into the grandma look and persona very well.

The reason I say that she’s a wizard is because the food she makes tastes like she used the tears of angels to season it with, all cream based food, with a pistachio dessert that is to die for.  And we were so full.  And we woke up full the next day, 14 hours after we ate.

Like, not even kidding, I’m pretty sure I was going to die.

Now, my grandma is 80 years old and has lost her filter, giving her quite a bit of spunk that she’s never had before.  She mentions about how she doesn’t like animals in the house.  My dogs are passed out on the floor in the living room.

Me: Do you want me to put them outside?

Grandma: No, they can be in here.  But I really don’t like animals in the house.

Me: So tell me, what was it like growing up in the dirty thirties?

Gramdma: Well we had nothing.  No television, no food, hardly any clothes.  Dust everywhere.  And we never had animals in the house. (these are her exact words)

Me: I told you I can put them in the garage or outside.

Grandma: Oh no, they’re fine.  I just don’t think animals belong in the house.

 

I posted on facebook that Alex and I had made it to Grandmas after four days of driving, to which it seemed a lot of my cousins decided to stop by to say hi.  Alex came out to say hi then retreated to the bedroom to pass out.  My cousins and aunt were confused, until I explained that we drove for over 30 hours from Prince George, British Columbia, all the way to Minnesota.

When they realized that I had been awake for close to 32 hours, they wished me luck on the rest of the trip and left.  But only after mooching some dessert from Grandma.

Next morning at 7:30, grandma had breakfast for us.  And we were still full from the night before.

Seriously, she’s a damn wizard.  We forced ourselves to eat the freakin’ delicious breakfast she made, fed the dogs the leftovers, to which she told us how she doesn’t like animals in the house, we gave her a hug, and off to Minneapolis we went.

I had Alex drive most of the way, but there is one place, in Clearwater, that is possibly the best truckstop ever.  The Nelson Bros. Truck Stop and Bakery.  They serve wild rice sausage, everything smothered in gravy, two breakfast platters of food that’s cheap, and their apple fritters are about a pound from how freaking huge they are.  This is a favorite of Alex’s to stop at when we go to Minnesota, so we stopped in and got some pastries and sausage, immediately regretting the fritters because we were still full from Grandmas.

Now, I understand this is a fairly boring post so far, but it’s about to get entertaining.

Since I’m originally from Minneapolis and I used to steal my moms car at two in the morning to drive around, then fill up the gas tank so mom wouldn’t notice (sorry to break it to you this way mom), I like to think that I know Minneapolis pretty well.

Except I forgot that I haven’t lived in Minneapolis in five years and I hadn’t been to Minnesota in the summer for the past five years. 

And every single fucking highway was closed for construction so I had to take the FUCKING SIDE ROADS.

But I couldn’t tell Alex this.  Because he said if I got lost once, I wasn’t allowed to drive the rest of the trip.

So we were on I-94 from montana and it goes right through Minneapolis, which is perfect.  But in order to get to my home town, which is technically a suburb of Minneapolis, I have to hop onto 694.

I saw a sign for 494 and for 694.  I got excited because I was like OH MY GOD I RECOGNIZE 494 SO THAT MUST BE THE ROAD THAT GETS ME TO MY MOMS HOUSE!

Oh, how wrong I was.

I take 494 and after I’ve gone thirty miles south of my mom’s house and end up in fucking Minnetonka, I decide to tell Alex that we’re horribly lost and I have no idea where we are.  And we need to call my mom.

Alex: Hey, we’re in Minneapolis and we’re lost.

Mom: Haha, Leah’s driving isn’t she?

Alex: Yes, actually.  We’re in… Minnetonka?

Mom: WHAT THE HELL?!  How the hell did you end up in Minnetonka

Step-dad (who was listening to mom): They took 494 instead of 694, didn’t they?

Alex: I heard him say that, yeah we’re on 494.

Step dad (who takes the phone from my mom): Alex, why did you let a woman drive?

Me: (while driving into the town I was born in, Crystal) OH MY GOD I KNOW WHERE WE ARE!

Alex: What?

Me: I’M SIX BLOCKS FROM MY DADS HOUSE!  SCREW YOU GUYS I KNOW HOW TO GET HOME!

 

To which all the roads had changed names and locations because of the construction in the past five years, so we had to look on google maps on how to get to my moms house.  To which my entire family teased me relentlessly for the entire eight day visit in Minneapolis.

 

My defense: They never told me there was insane amounts of construction in Minneapolis.

Their retort: It’s Minnesota in the summer, of course there’s construction.

 

The fourths and final part shall be posted next week.  Give your thoughts on this installment of the trip.  While this part was slow, it’ll pick up for the next piece. 

Comments? Thoughts?  Suggestions?  Cockroaches?  LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS BELOW!

Why It’s Awesome/Horrible To Be An Adult

So I have been stressed lately and all I can think is “Oh, I wish I was a kid living at my moms again!” to which my mom laughed and said “no.”  I think she said no because I can’t move back home because I’m messy and she’s super tidy.

I have no idea, but that’s probably the reason.

So I decided to make a list of why it’s AWESOME to be an adult.  Then ten reasons on why it really sucks to be an adult.

Let’s start with the awesome list.

  1.  I have no bedtime. Seriously.  I can go to bed at six AM and wake up at six PM and it’s totally okay because I’m a mother fucking adult.
  2. I can ice cream for breakfast.  I know this is a total fatty reason, but think about it.  Growing up, your parents are like “YOU CAN’T HAVE ICE CREAM FOR BREAKFAST BECAUSE IT WILL ROT YOUR TEETH AND YOU’LL GET FAT!”  Jokes on them!  I’m already fat!  And my teeth are so sensitive that I have to brush them all the time anyway!  And ice cream is an excellent source of calcium.  I don’t want osteoporosis when I’m older, so MORE ICE CREAM!
  3. I can drive now.  I don’t have to ask my mom to drive me to the movies anymore.  I can just get in the car and go to the movies.  This would be higher on the list if I weren’t terrified of driving…
  4. I can live wherever I want!  When I was 18 I moved to Alaska, now that I’m 23 I moved to Louisiana.  Where to next?  Germany you say?  Japan?  Anywhere I can afford.
  5. I don’t have to go to class anymore.  I have this wonderful thing called online classes where I just write papers and send them in, getting college credit*
  6. I can have as many dogs as I want.  I have two, but mom can’t tell me to give the neighbor dog back!**
  7. I can wear anything I want out of the house now.  I go grocery shopping in pajamas all the time and I have this insanely ripped up hoodie that I wear all the time***
  8. Cut my own hair?  Make my own clothes?  The sky is the limit when you’re an adult!
  9. Dirty movies?  Hell, you can own dirty movies or even make your own!  (Though I strongly suggest against this, that is a horrible idea.  Seriously, nobody would hire you if you did that.  DON’T DO IT!)
  10. I can go outside when it’s pouring rain in shorts and a tank top, getting totally drenched, without my mom telling me to get back inside before I catch a cold.  I know better now mom.

I feel like I’m targeting my mom quite a bit.  To be fair, she is a typical mom.  She worries about little things, but she’s very caring and warm.  I love her lots.  But I’m pretty sure the only reason she has gray hair is because I drive her absolutely batshit crazy.  For example, “Don’t stick your hand in the garbage disposal!” she once told me.  Pffft, as if I’d turn it on with my hand in it… maybe…

Ten reasons why it sucks to be an adult

  1. Bills.  Fucking seriously.  I have gray hair at the ripe age of 23 because of finances.  I had no idea how stressful bills are.
  2. No mom to nag you about you doing stupid shit.  I guess I should elaborate on this: I do a lot of stupid shit.  I’ve picked up strangers in the middle of nowhere to give them rides home before, I’ve given money to hobos before, I cut full coverage of insurance on my car, to which I totaled it the next day.  People usually have a little voice in their head to tell them not to do stupid shit, I had my mom doing that for me, and now that she lives a thousand miles away, I’m a little lost.
  3. Work.  You’re saying that I have to work a dead end job that I hate until I’m 69 years old just so I can be broke as hell and work at wal-mart because my kids refuse to help me?
  4. No one to take care of you when you’re sick.  Okay, this one is a little unfair.  My mom would give me chores when I was sick.  And my husband waits on me hand and foot when I’m sick, and I return the favor to him by giving him chores when he’s sick.  He tells me I’m a bitch when he’s sick, I see it as making him stronger.
  5. Car maintenance.  What do you mean my flux capacitor is broken?  It’s going to cost HOW MUCH?!
  6. No bed time.  Now, you probably notice that this is on both lists.  The reason I have it on this list too is because when I was a teenager, I could drink a shitload of energy drinks and stay awake for four days and be like YEAH!  I’M AWESOME!  Now I need a pot of coffee just to function throughout the day without stabbing someone with a spoon.  When I work full time, I have a ten PM bedtime.  Sometimes.
  7. Your parents were right.  It kills me to have to say that.  Literally, part of my soul just shriveled up and died because I typed out that sentence.
  8. I feel like I’m still in High School.  Except maybe more middle school because I enjoyed my high school years.  When at school.  The drama in the real world is just like middle school.  There’s gossip, tragedy, “cheating,” just overall stupidity.  High school never ends.
  9. The law.  I can’t do stupid shit like putting laundry detergent into a fountain to make ten feet of bubbles (I did this in high school, it was awesome).  Stupid pranks aren’t a no no anymore, they’re a fucking misdemeanor.
  10. It’s really hard to make friends.  As an adult, going out and talking to people, you have a filter now that you didn’t have as a child.  You have anxiety now, you have to pretend to be responsible, and it’s just overall annoying.  I used to be social, now I just hide out in my house and watch cooking shows and crochet hats.  And take full time classes.

*My college courses are not that easy.  I do full time online school, where I spend upwards to 25 hours a week on homework, writing papers, reading discussion boards, watching archived classes while taking notes.  It’s difficult, but I actually enjoy it.

**I never took the neighbor dog.  But I could now if I wanted.

***If I wore this hoodie to my mom’s house, she’d burn it.  It’s ripped up and falling apart and insanely comfortable.  But if she saw it, she’d probably burn it.

So blogging community, what are your reasons on why it’s awesome/horrible to be an adult?  I WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY!

The next parts of my drive from Alaska to Louisiana will be posted later this week.