Tin Roof! Rusted!

Once upon a time, back when I was irresponsible and immature(no, not yesterday, you twits), I lived in a shack. Well, not so much of a shack as a breadbox. Myself and 5 other people in a 3 bedroom house. Did I mention the bedrooms were about as big as a Honda Civic?

Anyways, a two story house on the outskirts of town, complete with carport that we couldn't park on because the concrete was faulty and could potentially collapse at any moment, deck that was splintered all to hell, and our own groundhog.

Yes, we had a pet groundhog. Funny story, we came out of the basement one day to go to a LARP(yes, I used to LARP...stop laughing), and lo and behold, we find George sitting on the back stairs. Mind you, he wasn't plopped down like you would expect a groundhog to be. No, he was hanging out, big fat ass sitting on the bottom stair, little paw resting on the next step, chilling like a villain. He became our little buddy after that, and whenever we went outside on smoke breaks, he'd come out and chill out with us. Odd little fella. I still wonder whatever happened to him after we moved. Probably running his little pimp show down on the corner.

Anyways, 3 of us lived upstairs, in the "real" part of the house, and the other 3 lived downstairs. The upstairs rooms were big enough for a bed, and maybe a small walkway if you were spotless. One shirt on the floor and you were trapped. There was also hardwood flooring that looked like it had not a single bit of maintenance done in its entire history. Many splinters were suffered on many drunken nights from that floor. Where said splinters went, I'll leave to your imagination.

The downstairs wasn't much better. At least we had carpet down there. My room was big enough for a futon. If I stretched I could touch both opposing walls. The tv had to go in the closet. Across from the closet? The boiler room.

Oh, did I mention this house had no air conditioning? Also, a tin roof? Yeah. You do the math. For those of you that have tried dieting and failed, I have the perfect diet method for you. Live in a breadbox, with a tin roof, in the dog days of summer. I guarantee you'll lose 20 pounds in 2 weeks. Patent pending.

Funny part about the bedrooms, they were like coffins. They were on the front side of the house, and the house was built into the side of a slope. So, the front side of the basement was buried in the ground. No windows, ergo no exit, except the door. Close the door, and the rooms were pitch black. It was way too easy to lose track of time in those days. Just huddle in your room with the lights off, and the doors closed, and you'll never know what day it is when you wake up. It's like Nocturnal Roulette!!

A few months after we moved out, we got some very interesting news. The house had been condemned by the city. Something about too many safety issues, no easement in the basement rooms, so on and so forth. It always amuses me to think back on living in that house, and realizing I was living in a deathtrap. One fire in the downstairs living room, and I wouldn't be here today. It's a little scary when you think about it.

What does this have to do with the price of tea in china(by the way, I like that phrase, you'll hear it alot...get used to it)?

I've been in the process of trying to move for the past 2 months. I finally signed the paperwork on the new apartment today, and completely emptied my bank account trying to pay for it all. 6 days and counting until I move, and every day that passes I get more and more terrified. I'm scared to be out on my own again. The responsibilities are easy to deal with, it's just the isolation, solitude, things I used to be able to cope with in the past, rear their ugly head from time to time, and make me realize where I am in life...nowhere near where I want to be. I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop, and once it's all said and done, for me to realize I've made a huge mistake.

I just hope it's all worth it.