Ever Since I Moved To Philly, It’s Like I’m an Adult or Something.
I didn’t have to do anything except go to museums in D.C. But ever since I moved to Philly, it’s like real life found me and assaulted me. Over the past week, I’ve done the following:
- Taken my grandpa’s watch to get his battery changed.
- Found out battery and watch are broken, gone to store to buy grandpa new watch.
- Whined about it.
- Registered for the GRE to apply to grad school in Fall 2011, braced self for the possibility that I might ALSO have to take the GMAT since there is only one school with a Master’s in Econ (Temple) and if I don’t get in, it’s business school for me.
- Whined about it.
- Started researching new cars and saving for one. My baby is 11 years young and starting to bleed money for repairs and although it’s thrilling to play Russian roulette with my life on 95 south, I’m kind of ready for some more stability in pleading with the fates.
- Started researching areas where Mr. B and I want to buy a house. We already know how much we can afford so at this point it’s all about where we can actually live.
- Started figuring out how much more we need to save for a house versus how much we need to save for a car.
- Started saving for furniture for the house, started planning budget for house repairs and maintenance.
And this list never ends. Every time I cross something off, a subtask comes up. I would dump some of this stuff on Mr. B, but it’s kind of hard to plan Where Your Life Is Going over Skype, and because I am the more proactive of us (read: neurotic as hell), I decided to take control of the situation.
Besides, Mr. B is chilling in D.C. right now. When he comes here, life is going to catch up to him as well, in the form of my to-do list for him, including resuming all of my responsibilities that I’m too lazy to do now:
- Foot massage
- Actually purchasing our car (because as we know, car dealers deal differently with men than women)
- Peeling my oranges again
- Learning how to paint and do house maintenance
- Grocery shopping
I can’t wait until he’s as miserable as me.