Marching Along

I told myself that I’d make up for my distractions over the past week by doing some work towards my research tonight, but instead I’m just procrastinating while keeping myself cooped up on a Saturday night. I am a party animal, if you couldn’t tell already.

What distractions were playing hell with my work week, you ask? Craigslist, which I shall return to shortly. I’ve been slowly ferrying all my worldly possessions down the street to our new condo since we got our keys on the first of this month. Moving is simultaneously thrilling and bothersome, but having two entire weeks to transition between homes has done wonders to reduce the stress of it all. The new place is fantastic — 1900 sq ft, three stories, 3 bedrooms, 2 and a half bathrooms, only two blocks East of our current residence. It’s a freaking palace situated nicely between school/La Jolla and the Clairemont area, which I covet for its inexpensive food & gas. 1900 square feet is larger than my home back in NorCal, by golly.

As Rishi and I began to drop our stuff off at Nobel Manor (I hope that name sticks) we quickly realized it was going to take a massive amount of furniture to make the pad look lived in, much less cozy. After we both went to Target (sigh) to throw fistfulls of money at the slack-jawed employees (read: inmates) for cleaning supplies, decorations and random essentials, we dived into Craigslist in search of affordable furniture. After sending a few emails here and there on Friday morning I was the proud owner of a new bed frame and papasan chair come evening. Rishi picked up a slick shelving unit for his wall, and I’d like to think of our efforts as merely an opening salvo. We still need two or three couches and loveseats, a couple coffee tables, a dinner table, some shelves, an entertainment center, and a pool table (for that third living room which we were at a loss for uses). Troy hasn’t been in on any of this because of the Amazon internship which requires him to spend the entire summer in Seattle, but I imagine he might actually prefer it that way.

Despite the hermit crab pleasure of shifting your life into a larger, shiny, new shell, spending all this money on furnishings has made me feel palpably closer to the terrifying chasm of adulthood. I usually tell people that I’m going to commit suicide on my 30th birthday to spare me the numbing, complacent routine that modern life in a consumer-driven society has become, but that’s mostly so I don’t have to admit to myself that I’ll likely have the fiercest, most prolonged mid-life crisis the world has ever seen. We’re talking bipolar twin mistresses, cherry red H5 (or whatever car a complete asshole might drive 10 years from now), botox injections, gambling addiction, a separate closet to hold all my Viagra, a meek, retarded son and an angsty teenage daughter who listens to some Korn derivative and gets back at me by having unprotected sex in the dirt with the entire janitorial staff at her high school.

It will be awesome.