#12

What I'll Miss About LA- 12 Things with 12 Days to Go...

#12- My Youth

How maudlin is that? It's true though. As we speak, the Tree House is being packed up (well, not by me as clearly I'm typing). It seems to be resisting the whole process, if I were to be honest about it. There is no way Vic and I have accumulated so much junk in four years. I swear, the apartment itself is letting us know its displeasure by spitting out old papers and knick-knacks and Mardi Gras beads and bobby pins from INSIDE THE WALLS. That has to be it.

Vic is slowly moving her things into her new apartment across the alley. She's already turned her back on pretty much all of our furniture for pretty new things. She's actually paid full-price for a couch that's never been used. I don't think she's paid full price for a new object EVER.

So her pretty new apartment is being filled with pretty, new, adult-grownedup things. And I'm doing my damnedest to get it all back to Goodwill (time to go home now) or sold for profit which is looking unlikely. I have pretty much the same plan for my Chicago apartment. Mainly furniture that doesn't make my mother cry in the rental car on her way back to the hotel.

This means that the Tree House is in pieces. The other night, Vic and I packed in our matching sailor hats. I mean, if that doesn't say it all- I don't know what does. Here we are, picking out things from Crate & Barrel, all the while musing to each other, "Do you want the sombrero?" (No.) "What about the Roswell white board?" (Yes.) "Is this my signed Soul Decision CD or yours?" (It was hers. Dammit) "Why do we have two copies of The Cutting Edge?" (Please. I know why.) "Remember when Habs threw up in the bathtub?" (I missed that, thankfully.)

And just to drive the point home, today I went to the dry cleaners. The DRY CLEANERS, people. It's been so long that when I laid out all of my DCO clothes, I found a bra that had gone missing last October. When these clothes are clean, I will have doubled my wardrobe. All the while I kept thinking about that old Mitch Hedberg joke: "This shirt is 'dry-clean only'...which means it's dirty." Which made me chuckle to myself. And made me feel better that at least if I'm becoming an adult, I'm an adult who still thinks nothing can't be cured with a Mitch Hedberg line.