Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

So I'm maybe about to buy a house. For myself and the girls.

All by myself.

Because I am a grown up and it's a GREAT little house.


  • It's not built yet so I get to play with tiles and counters and cabinets and stuff instead of taking whatever someone else picked out.
  • It's got a little yard. Enough for one lady Agnes to run around in, small enough that I can probably mow it with scissors in a pinch. (That is patently untrue.)
  • It's got plenty of room (two bedrooms with an unfinished basement where I could put a third if I wanted!) but not too much.
  • It's close to work and my parents and a little town that isn't Louisville but is still pretty cool.


  • It costs approximately one billion dollars plus possibly a promise to rent out my womb space, it's not entirely clear. Every time I start thinking about how much money it is my brain just skips over it like a rock on a lake where my brain is the lake and the rock is all of my money. I mean TECHNICALLY I can afford it, but damn yo.
  • Plus it's not built yet!!

So, when I was seventeen ('lil Emma, I have one piece of advice for you: don't wear your hair like that. It's terrible. Seriously.) I changed my mind about where I wanted to go to college late in the summer, and the dorms at my intended school were full.  My mom and I found a room that wasn't too far off campus with two older male students and as I type that out I'm frankly shocked that she was going to let me live there. It must have been how bad my hair was. She assumed I'd be completely safe from the attentions of the opposite sex, no matter how flirty I got. Bad haired 'lil Emma was pretty boy crazy.

Like a week later we found out that I DID get a place in the dorms (where my roommate was kind of icky and I'm pretty sure looked at porn on my computer while I was out of the room) and I was so excited. I kept thinking about how I was going to carry my stuff in a little caddy to the shower room and how I'd go back and nap between classes and other tiny inconsequential detaily things that just tickled my little brain. I was worried that I was going to wear off the actual funness, though, so I intentionally stopped thinking about them.

When I finally went I wasn't excited anymore at all.

I'm not going to intentionally not think about the funness of having a big ol' brand new house, that's a mistake I've checked off already. But what if by October (projected completion date - I saw the hole in the ground where it will go today!) I've worn the newness off with my brain anyway? What if I move in and it's like oh right this is exactly like I imagined for six months and therefore not even a little fun anymore?

So. Pros and cons. I sign the contract on Saturday so I should probably stop skipping that damn brain rock, huh?

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