The Big M

So I’m moving…again. What a roller coaster life’s been – this is my 3rd move in one year. And it’s never to anywhere exciting like, say, the moon. It’s just to another house with new roomies. Though this time it is going to be a bit different.

The first time I moved (from my parents home at the age of 24 – more than slightly embarrassing – if I was a the type of girl to have a sugar-daddy I would have gotten one to support me while I was in college but I’m not) I found my roommate on Craigslist. That’s right, some person claiming to be a 28-year-old named Susanna asked to meet me at her apartment to discuss the details of moving in and I went.

“What if it was some fat, bald 50-year-old man who wanted to take advantage of you?!”

“What if it was some serial killer who lures his young female victims through Craigslist?!” (I have extremely paranoid friends)

She wasn’t. She was a very sweet 28-year-old middle school teacher who grew up in South Africa and used Craigslist to lure young male victims so I was safe. Joking, of course. After all, if you know me, you know I’m the creepy one.

The second time I moved, I thought I was upgrading. Big, beautiful house right on the golf course in a community that sent passive-aggressive notes about having a satellite dish in the wrong place or a front porch light with too high a voltage. We ignored these notes as all things passive-aggressive should be ignored (they want to show up at the front door with a couple mafia hit men then I’ll consider changing the light bulb).


Despite several failed attempts to contact
you, the satellite dish on the Eastern side of your
house has still not been relocated. If you have
any questions or concerns please feel free to
promptly jump off a bridge…after you remove
the satellite dish, of course.


My best friend’s little sister, Kayla, became my roommate and life was good. We have a spa in the backyard and full access to a state-of-the-art fitness center (my spa-time to workout-time ratio isn’t exactly something to brag about but at least I've seen the fitness center). And, to top it all off, my best friend, Amanda, and her husband, Charlie, live right across the street!

Unfortunately, my measly $600 wasn’t enough to cover the $2,200 mortgage and my landlord, Kayla and Amanda’s dad, is giving us the boot since we couldn’t find roommates to occupy the other rooms in the house (you know who you are). What’s wrong with Beaumont, huh?

Now my roomie and I are in the process of moving in with said best friend and her character of a husband. They are extremely generous and I love them tremendously but I don’t think they know what they’re getting into.

Recent text to Amanda:

“Better get in all that crazy living room sex while you can! We’re moving in soon!”

No response as of yet. Curious. Maybe she was busy…