i brought you this

There's something about really old, veteran paparazzi that's great solely in its ridiculousness. That, and the fact that I am spending my last Friday night here watching 20/20. I. love. my. life.

"We're not molesting children, we're just taking pictures".

Ha. I am enamoured with this basement, and I'm not entirely sure why. Most of my specific memories of it involve me being 8 years old and throwing up a lot. There are a few others. I just think of the throw up first and foremost. I think I'm partly scared to leave it for 3 and a half months for the simple sake of attachment. I've spent a lot of my life here; therefore, it must be sad that I'm leaving it. Well, I would like to beg to differ, but for some reason that's just not quite working out for me at this point in time. I have about six hours until we're on the road for the airport. Sort of scary? I'm not even sure anymore. I am still flip flopping between being excited and sad. I can't pinpoint the sad, though. I think it's a sad that goes anywhere. Oh well. When school starts, when there are friends again, when the scabs heal, when there are more bruises.

I feel like adopting so many little humans. This is the problem with 20/20 human interest stories amidst high stress situations. Must... pack... darling, you're going back.