My mid-life crisis at 27.
So. I still live in North Carolina.
So. I can’t afford to move.
No. Let me rephrase.
I can’t afford to move AND spend $1,500 a month on a “summer home.”
I’m going to go finish my good cry now and eat cookie dough.
The boy was here yesterday and we went to eat lunch at a place that had television screens.
ESPN COULD have shown Cardinals clips. You know. Since they are relevant.
But what was on the 15 minute repeat?
Oh, Jon Lester’s fried chicken comments.
AWESOME prioritization, ESPN.
Okay. Back to crying.
And there will be other opportunities that A) Pay me enough to live or B) Are located in Boston specific.
Did I tell you they offered me… *trying to hold back tears* SEASON RED SOX TICKETS?
I’m going to be okay.
There will be other opportunities. Right? Right? RIGHT?
I suddenly feel very, very claustrophobic.
Oh, and speaking of the boy. Feel very sorry for him. Not only did he have to hear me mope about said job for the duration of his 24-hour visit, but he had to hear my midlife crisis feeeeelings talk. I, (that’s right, ME) had a talk about feelings. <- SEE WHAT DECISIONS DO TO ME?
He gets points for not scurrying.
When does adulthood actually get easier?
Right. Back to that.