I just ate wings. It was sort of scary. They weren't the little wings that I normally get...perfect for dipping into bleu cheese...they were wings. They looked like they could flap away. It was sort of frightening to me.
I was out with a friend of mine whom I am in talks with about getting an apartment with downtown at the end of July. We're that level of friends where we know each other fairly casually, hang out once in a while, but definitely get along well and have some things in common...yet our lives don't really intersect all that often. I'm nervous, though. The selfish 30 year old in me says I should be getting my own place so I can do what I want, decorate how I want, and not have to answer to anyone about anything. Then there's the side of me that thinks it could be fun, challenging, might encourage me to live neater, and a good move financially. Decisions, decisions.
She said tonight that she was 75% yes. I think that's about where I am, too...so that's good, right?