WARNING: This post is a stream-of-consciousness maelstrom.
For those of you who haven’t been to our apartment, we live in a two-bedroom loft space. It’s probably one of the worst 10 ideas my parents have ever had—and that’s saying something. This place has floating walls that don’t go all the way to the ceiling (that includes the bathrooms, folks) and no doors, just openings to the bedrooms. This is hard to visualize, so here’s a picture that should help—this isn’t our exact place, just one from our building I found trolling Google:
It’s not like the developer forgot to finish or anything. It’s actually a very cool green building with all sorts of neat things like recycled glass tile and reclaimed wood floors. It would all be very on-trend for 20-somethings or hip empty-nesters. But my parents don’t fit that mold. They’re lame now, and it’s better that they just accept it.
Because of our unconventional living arrangement, I can hear everything that happens in our apartment. I should also mention I can hear everything in the one above and below us too. Special shout-out to the downstairs neighbor for the 6 a.m. Rihanna “S&M” wakeup call this morning—it was in no way inappropriate for a 16-month-old.
Speaking of inappropriate*, I’ve heard all of the last two seasons of True Blood, and I’d like to address Sunday’s finale. Now, I wasn’t alive for the first years of the series, but I have to say, what I heard last year left me doubting if I’d be back again. But because I have no power over the remote, I returned to Bon Temps and its wacky fairies and vampires. For the haters out there, this season was totally better. But what I’m really excited for is how they set up next season. Sure, they’re cribbing a little too much from Walking Dead, but the show is back to pure good and evil, out in the open. If they bring back Eric and guarantee more Lafayette sass, I’m all in next year.
Of course, my parents will probably come to their senses and move to a more logical home, and then I’ll be SOL. I suppose in 17 years, I’ll be able to buy the DVDs—or whatever the future version of a DVD is. Probably a hologram performance in my living room.
*My editor would like me to note that we do not endorse anyone under the age of 204 months watching True Blood. It is for grown ups. When babies and vampires mix, bad things happen.