I don't like packing. I have so much stuff. This sucks.
So I move it of my parents house in three days and wow...this is weird. It feels weird. Scary. Really scary. Like bam, suddenly I'm responsible for myself and my future and I'm supposed to be figuring out what I want to do with the rest of my life yet I'm not even allowed to rent a car. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT MY FAVORITE COLOR IS. I CAN ONLY COOK FOUR THINGS. And now I'm living on my own?! This just doesn't seem logical. But no matter what anybody thinks, it's happening. In three days it's happening and I will be independent. Well, as independent as one can be when living 23 miles away from helicopter parents. (Love you mom am dad!)
So tonight at work (library) I head over to the JNF section (juvenile non-fiction) to find the very heart of my darkest nightmares come to life. Some kids (more along the lines of the devil incarnate) have DESTROYED it. And when I say 'destroyed' I don't mean like three books are out of place (that's probably what you all think librarians mean when they say destroyed).
I mean they have taken entire shelves of books and mashed them together then shoved them back onto the shelves in jumbled masses, upside down, open, completely out of order, spilling out onto the floor. It was madness. I looked at it, then looked up the ceiling and prayed for God to take me right then and spare me from having to clean up this.
BUT I DID IT.
It took me an hour.
BUT I DID IT.
You're welcome, Dusk!
Also, shout out to Dusk's husband and his resplendent beard for reading my blog every night.
(I told Celeste I would use resplendent in this post.)
About a week ago I was chosen to clean out the fridge at work. It's a very auspicious task and I was chosen from many highly capable individuals. BUT I WAS CHOSEN.
The reason I had to do this was because a sticky brown substance had congealed at the bottom and my boss decided that tonight would be the night it was cleaned. I thought that I would just do the bottom, wipe out the drawers, and be done.
But, oh. How wrong I was.
We're a library. We're a bunch of nice ladies who like books and kids and helping people. We should eat low fat microwave dinners and keep some pop and condiments in the fridge. Right? WRONG. WRONG ON SO MANY HORRIFYING LEVELS.
It took me an hour, 2 packages of paper towels, and many half strangled yells of, "Ew! What is this! You guys are disgusting!"
Moldy leftover takeout food, yogurt that expired two years ago, and multiple unopened expired tubs of ranch dip.
I found this in the back.
That's actually not the grossest thing I found. I'm not going to show you the grossest thing because I didn't want to hold it long enough to take a picture of it.
Little brother got my old algebra 2 textbook! He sent me this
(I was the one who taught him to text in class. This is an age old wisdom that was passed down to me from my older brother when I got my first phone at age 13.)
Mom, if you're reading this, disregard everything in parenthesis.
And now for a monologue by me, Nicole Rosenau:
So little brother started his sophomore year of high school today (so proud) and I feel really weird about this whole not-being-in-high-school-anymore thing. I was able to justify not being there today in my head by saying stuff like, "Maybe I had a really long dentist appointment." Or, "A funeral. I was at a funeral." But not being there tomorrow... IT JUST FEELS SO STRANGE. It's like I've been in high school for my whole life (I don't even remember middle school. Like at all. Maybe I was hit on the head first day of freshmen year or something.) Kind of sad, actually. Not being in high school makes me sad. I'm in limbo. Weird world. I mean, I've spent all of my life trying to achieve what I have now achieved and I should be OVER-FREAKING-JOYED but instead I kind of feel out of place. Like I'm missing something.
Sorry for that wonderfully put together melodramatic tirade. MOVING ON.
I haven't been posting super a lot lately, BUT THAT IS ALL GOING TO CHANGE. I HOPE. I start college in two weeks. (Two weeks from today is my first day of class.) And hopefully I will have more excitement and adventures to tell you all about.
Big brother came home for a few days and after a viewing of the Phantom Menace, dad decided we were going to play a game...
(Brief discussion on Star Wars Episode I: the Padme/Anakin age thing. She is supposedly 14. What democracy in their right mind elects a 14 girl their queen? And he is supposedly 9. A sassy nine year old. And they eventually fall in love. Throughout the whole movie little brother has been saying things like, "Don't worry, you'll see her again. You'll kill her!")
Rosenau game nights never end well. Monopoly never fails to end in bitter alliances, tears, and week long bouts of the silent treatment. One time we had to have a family meeting afterwards and we haven't played it since.
(Right now my dad is holding his finger an inch from my mom's face, saying, "I'm not touching you! I'm not touching you!")
We're playing 'the train game' this evening (also known as Ticket to Ride) because it's little brothers favorite games. The problem is, it is a game that uses color matching as part of the playing and both dad and big brother are so color blind it's comical. The last few minutes have been, "Hand me that grey one." "That's pink." "Then what is that one?" "That's purple." "No it's not."
It's like they refuse to believe that they are colorblind even though liscensed professionals have confirmed it.
"Play the flipping cards, woman." -sassy dad
The very first thing he did was line up all of his train cars in rows.
He's also whistling.
Big brother is now withholding points because "mom is making him angry".
"I am not happy. I want a re. do." -big brother having tantrum
A few months ago my mom bought my dad a shirt that's days, "Haters gonna hate" and he's now promising that he's going to wear it everyday on our winter vacation. He's also claiming that he's going to speak "gangster" the whole time. (Gangster translates to saying things like: Word. and, Fo shizzle.) big brother is now saying that it's him or the shirt. And if the shirt goes, he doesn't.
I GOT ANOTHER RAINBOW. They're all resenting me because I get all the rainbows.
Sometimes I like to watch sad movies and cry and pretend I'm the romantic heroine in my fictional fairy tales but then I have to remind myself that I eat WAY too much ice cream to be skinny enough for that role. Because ice cream is GOOD.