While Nick was off at graduation rehearsal in preparation for tomorrow, I was picking up Sammi from school and running her by The Tattered Cover so she could walk her job application inside. She's decided she wants to land a job at fifteen and is starting with her favorite bookstore and, failing that, the nearby movie theater. I helped her with the application last night and I have to say, if anyone at that book store takes the time to read her answers and they don't at least call her for an interview, they are soulless monsters. But maybe that's being a little subjective. . .
Nah.
She is already counting the days until Nick leaves for college, or, actually, until the end of July when he will be unceremoniously packed up and kicked out of what will, like magic at midnight on August 1, become her basement. Nick has a very large, very heavy projection television that he does not want to get rid of down there. Sammi is insisting he figure out how to get it out of the basement despite the fact that it weighs a ton, has to go up the stairs, and then into some imaginary space as yet uninvented so it's not in HER room. He also has his dad's leather chair and ottoman that Bob has already been making plans to re-appropriate for himself, now that it doesn't matter if our living room looks "cluttered with furniture" to buyers. My parents wanted to give Sammi a new bedroom set for a birthday present last year and she decided to wait until she could pick it out for the basement. This girl has plans.
Nick's one request is that we not put in the bathroom in the basement like we'd wanted to do since we bought the house but never had the expendable funds to make happen. I laughed and assured him, after paying for college, we'll never have expendable funds again.
Nick's weekend home will be one of the rooms upstairs, where he will have significantly less room than before, but compared to the dorm, it should still feel like a palace.
The changes, they just keep a'coming.
Nah.
She is already counting the days until Nick leaves for college, or, actually, until the end of July when he will be unceremoniously packed up and kicked out of what will, like magic at midnight on August 1, become her basement. Nick has a very large, very heavy projection television that he does not want to get rid of down there. Sammi is insisting he figure out how to get it out of the basement despite the fact that it weighs a ton, has to go up the stairs, and then into some imaginary space as yet uninvented so it's not in HER room. He also has his dad's leather chair and ottoman that Bob has already been making plans to re-appropriate for himself, now that it doesn't matter if our living room looks "cluttered with furniture" to buyers. My parents wanted to give Sammi a new bedroom set for a birthday present last year and she decided to wait until she could pick it out for the basement. This girl has plans.
Nick's one request is that we not put in the bathroom in the basement like we'd wanted to do since we bought the house but never had the expendable funds to make happen. I laughed and assured him, after paying for college, we'll never have expendable funds again.
Nick's weekend home will be one of the rooms upstairs, where he will have significantly less room than before, but compared to the dorm, it should still feel like a palace.
The changes, they just keep a'coming.
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