After days of packing, heavy lifting, sweating and playing real life Tetris, my move home is complete.
In five days, seven years of LA living has come to a close. This weekend while packing, I found myself lying on my living room floor, surrounded by the boxes that now contain my life. While looking at the mess around me, I felt an overwhelming rush of girly and annoying emotions.
I felt anticipation. Serious anticipation. I’m dying to know what it will be like to live in my child hood room with my parents just down the hall.
I felt fear. Fear that my parents will hate having me there and that we will be at each other’s throats. Fear that this is the end of my already dismal love life.
I felt excitement. Extreme excitement to start a new chapter. A new chapter where I cook in a kitchen that looks like this. Where I live with amazing people like this. And I save lots and lots of this.
And then the moment passed. I got up, I packed up another box and I went on with my life.
Just like I will keep on doing. Whether I’m in my parent’s house or gallivanting around the world.
My seven years in LA were amazing. But the next seven are going to be even better.
Stay classy Los Angeles.
Love and Beer Floats