some letters

Dear Adorable Bunnies,
While I enjoy seeing you take over my neighbourhood because you're so darn cute, please move on to another street because my dogs keep eating your poo and you keep eating all the gardens.

Dear Mystery Boy Who Asked My Dad Permission to Ask Me to Coffee,
Your manners are better than your follow through. Also, very clever to intrigue me with your chivalry.

Dear itunes,
Please put The Oh Wells in your stupid store. I need some good music and you keep thwarting me because we don't like the same stuff.

Dear Sky From Last Night,
Thanks for being awesome. Let's meet up again soon.

Dear Bowl Chair,
I don't care if you permanently destroy the curvature of my spine. I will love you forever. (But actually, please go easy on my spine. I need it for a while yet.)

Dear Dishwasher,
I missed you; did you miss me?

Dear Skin Care Companies,
I will give you my money if you can make a tinted moisturizer with sunscreen that does NOT give me pimples. I don't want to put three things on my face. I want to put one thing on my face. Please indulge my laziness and sensitive skin.

on this episode of "just get over yourself"

I'm in a post-move funk. Yesterday, I realized that I'd reached my cap in regards to Living With Other People, and I longed to be By Myself. (This is not a comment on my family. I have a great family. It has more to do with the fact that the Rug of Independence I was standing on has been whisked out from under my feet.) I moved a bunch of stuff into my room, and started emptying bathroom shelves in anticipation of putting all my crap in them, but I have SO MUCH STUFF. I keep thinking, "In my apartment I had the perfect place for this." I was eating my cereal with a tiny spoon and my mad face on as I munched awkwardly small sized bites, remembering that all the spoons at my apartment were the perfect size for cereal.

How do I get rid of this? Campbell River is over for me - my apartment belongs to somebody else, and my stuff is dispersed among thrift stores, random people from craigslist, and my garage. I live here now. I need to snap out of it and make a list of all the things that are wonderful about being back at home. But you remember that one episode of Friends when Ross was trying to decide between Julie and Rachel, so he made a list of the bad things of each of them, and no matter how many things he had on the list of why he shouldn't waste his time with Rachel, all he had to put on the Julie side was, "She's not Rachel." (Only he said "Rachem," and we all know how that turned out.) There are so many things that are good about this place. Lots of things I love and am glad to get back to. But it's just not the same.