Caitlin and I are in the process of moving downstairs. The new place has a bit less square footage, but way more cubic feet cause the ceilings are twice as high. The huge windows bring in more light, the kitchen is a better shape, there’s a little deck on the back, and a marble “ornamental” fireplace in the front. Real estate. New York. It’s pretty nice, but I’ll only live there for a month before I run away to Vermont and Cait finds a roommate. This further solidifies the fact that I’m leaving for real which is quite distressing. Of course, the idea is I’ll be back next summer to do the second year from Brooklyn, but I don’t know. I don’t know how I’ll be able to pay rent here while I’m still in school. I wish at least one of us had rich parents. I don’t even care if that would make me a brat anymore. I just want my twenties to be easier. Now you say, “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today. I’ll see you for another session next week, okay?”
