Sweet Sixteen

Don't you just HATE the phrase "sweet sixteen?"  I know I do.  So why I'm using it for the title of my very first blog post is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.

"Sweet sixteen" here refers to the number of days left before my graduation and the unfurling of a new chapter of my life.  If you looked up "anxious" in the dictionary right now, you'd probably find an entry that defined "anxious," and that entry would accurately describe how I feel right now.

In part, this blog is to chronicle the weeks pre-graduation, the AWESOME FUCKING ROADTRIP I'm going on following graduation, and my post-graduation life in sunny California.  Disclaimer: I didn't choose to go to California.  It chose me.  Sort of like the mafia, but with more jean shorts.

Anyway, right now, everything that could go wrong has, in accordance with Murphy's Law.  With only two weeks to go I'm pretty stressed out, which is why the last things in the world I needed were:

1) Carlisle's left ear is infected.

2) The guy who is renting out my spare room has disappeared and is a week overdue with his rent.

3) I lost my phone.  I don't mean I misplaced it; I mean I legitimately lost it forever.  Fortunately,

4) All my friends are selfish pricks who never return my calls or want to hang out and are content to let me stew in self-pity and agonising worry while they do whatever it is flaky, unrealiable people do.

Okay, so I should probably qualify my final complaint by saying that I know everyone else is busy and it's the end of the semester and all, and people have their own lives and their own issues.  But for real, I'm moving 3,000 miles away in a couple weeks.  Why don't they want to see me?!  I'm the coolest kid I know!

Anyway, who needs friends.  I have you now, Blog.  (This is probably a serious sentiment for like 30% of the internet's population, actually.  Saaaaad.)

On the bright side of things, I've gotten most of my preparations for the trip done.  Right now it's all about downsizing.  Hilariously, I'm a minimalist and have virtually nothing to downsize.  My only real piece of furniture is a white-spotted gazelle's head.  Yeah, you read right, a gazelle head.  That's how you know I'm a biologist; I define furniture as "dead stuff that hangs out in my living room."

I'm probably most anxious about meeting people in California.  Andrew and Jack say that if their friends were invisible and could watch me interacting with Jack and Andrew as I normally do, that they would LOVE me.  But the problem is they're not invisible and I'm really concerned they'll judge me.  Considering my past experiences with people, this seems likely, if not inevitable.

Crap, I'm delving back into the negatives.  Okay, positive, positive.  Well, yesterday Andrew got our new house.  It's a cute little thing: red-tiled roof, hardwood floors, ceramic floor in the kitchen and bath, fireplace.  See the picture below.  I'm pretty excited that that's in order.  Welp, that's all I can think of to say.  Sorry I haven't anything more exciting for you yet, Blog.  If you find my phone, let me know.

(Pictured Above: Casa de... New... Place)
(...I don't actually speak a word of Spanish.  I'm sorry.)

Also please note that is actually the place next door.  Ours is identical, but flipped; it's off to the right.  Here's the front porch:

(So excited to call this place home!)