No news is good news.

Caliente.
Originally uploaded by This Year's Love.

I got a new car--well, it's not technically mine but I get to drive it. It's a demo. A perk of my job. I have a lot of perks.

I got a call from my realtor today saying that my financing is in underwriting! I was going to call to find out what was going on today but she called before I could. Yay! She said things should be done by Thursday and a closing date can be set for whenever and...um...I'LL BE A HOMEOWNER.

It doesn't seem real, but it's pretty amazing.
It dawned on me tonight while sitting in the back of my car after visiting Kelly in Rennselaer and texting Anna about the underwriting that I'm going to turn 21 in 15 days. And I'm going to be a homeowner probably before that. I was in such a rush, I felt like I have lived with my parents for 40 years when it's been 21...there's been no reason to move out, no opportunity, so it was really just my desire to stop being treated and talked at like a child. I'll always be their child, but I'm not a juvenile anymore. Whether I like it or not, I'm an "adult"...whatever the hell that means. Oh yeah, spending every cent I make to survive. (Not really. It feels like it, though.)
My issue, as I once put it to my friend Vivian, is that we don't necessarily dislike our parents so much as we dislike being treated as kids but don't have any choice when we live with them. They won't see us as adults when we're living under their roof and they don't want to accept that we are adults even when we move out. But at least when we don't live under their roof, under their rules, we have a leg to stand on. We pay our own bills, we set our own schedules, and they really can't say anything about it--well, they can, but they can't enforce them or make us feel like we should "obey' them anymore.

I won't kid myself into thinking that once I don't live with them anymore that we'll have better relationships. We've never really and that won't change no matter what. And I'm fine with that. At least when I'm on my own I can make my own mistakes without them breathing down my neck and when they say "no" I can say "shut up! you can't tell me what to do!" and then do it. or not do it. IT'S MY CALL!

I've decided that despite my earlier conviction to keep my cat I won't be taking her with me. My parents have told me enough times that they want to keep her that I won't feel the slightest bit guilty for leaving her. I know for a fact she wouldn't like living in a smaller house and she certainly wouldn't like having so fewer places to hide and sleep all day and get away from the dogs. She just hasn't been the same since I got Judah. She honestly couldn't handle the change. I still loved her and spent as much time with her, but she didn't care and pulled away from me. Bitch.
I won't be getting another cat anytime soon. I don't really have use for cats. It's nice to have one around the house, I've already got her and have no intention of giving her away, but since my parents want her they can have her and I can live without the drama.
I do want to adopt a Greyhound, but not right away. I don't think I'll bring any new animals in for a while. At least not until I get the house sort of how I want it. There'll be plenty of time for everything next year. Or whatever--if something comes along sooner, I can decide on my own without consulting anyone or having to ask permission. FREEDOM!
How novel.

I guess my issue was always that my parents said no to stupid things and completely ignored the more important stuff. Like they have never, ever asked or cared about where I've been all night if I've gone out. They don't wonder if I'm drinking or smoking or doing drugs. I've just not done many things or often enough for it to be a problem. I smoke, they don't know, but I have said that I've smoked--they just don't believe me. I don't drink often--the times I do drink it's with them around, at my sister's house, and never when I was driving. Now I really can't stand the taste of alcohol--even the girly drinks. I've never gotten drunk and have no desire to.
I've left how many times without saying where I'm going. They don't call, leave a light on, and don't ask me the next day. I don't want them hounding me about it, but sheesh. Show SOME concern.

Suddenly I feel ridiculously young now that I'm faced with the knowledge that I'll be living on my own not in an apartment but jumping feet first into home ownership by myself. My parents waited for decades, were in their 50's when they finally bought a house, and Rachel had Adam. I've got Jude and Is.

And, too, I've noticed a sudden feeling of wanderlust. I want to see the world. I'm YOUNG...and I don't have a thing holding me down.
Well, I will. Soon enough.
So I wonder why I'm moving out--I mean, I know WHY--and why I have the dogs and why I have this job that's so personal ... it's not just a pencil pushing job....when I want to travel.
But then I would never be able to leave my dogs. I spent, oh, three or four days in California last year and by the first night in Santa Barbara I saw a dog and started crying. Literally crying because I was that upset that I couldn't touch or see or hear Judah when I went to bed that night.
Anyway...sometime in the near future when I don't have this job anymore I'll think about renting out my house and hitting the road for a while. See the country....I hope.

My big chocolate Oranda (goldfish) is worrying me. He keeps going to the surface...he never does that. He's not acting weird otherwise and doesn't look sick. But let's just say that if he died I would have to call off of work. And he'd be given a real burial.