05 January 2011

I think I'm a grown-up.

Crap.

I bought a car. I know things about financing and credit and other fancy, old-sounding crap like that. And I DON'T LIKE IT.

So, I'm twenty-five. I (will) own my car. I'm working on a salary, full time. I like reading more than drinking. I worry about my regularity. I've been talking to an insurance agent about my options. There's no two ways about it: I'm a grown-up.

I never thought it would happen.

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