You know when you’re thirteen and eat too much ice cream, and you slip into those insane sugar fueled  moods? I feel like the coffee I drank this morning is just kicking in… at 11:24 at night. I’m bouncing off the walls, fidgeting, and cannot do anything that resembles productivity. So blog I shall.

My name is Kate and I recently (… today) discovered I am a full blown hoarder. Prepare for a rambling post about today, tacos, july’s ridiculous heat, bubba kegs, and my obscene amount of material possessions.

EXHIBIT A: Where Kent and I have eaten dinner since Wednesday night. I feel a weird combination of token college student mixed with trailer park trash. When all his roommates moved out of the house on Wednesday, they took all their stuff (naturally) and that just happened to be… everything. The living room contains just this blow up mattress. Which is also a dining room table. And a desk to study at. Sometimes when we’re tired of cleaning, we’ll lay there and stare at the ceiling… because there’s no TV. Notice my perfectly browned bacon quesadilla that sort of resembles Pac Man.

EXHIBIT B: Kent at lunch today

It’s the last weekend before everyone’s leases are up. The majority of the apartment complexes run on leases that correspond with UCF’s terms, starting in Fall and ending in Summer. YOU’D THINK after 50 years, UCF would figure this out, and not make Summer B end on August 2nd. Where am I supposed to be for those two days? These same sneaky apartment complexes don’t let you move in until mid-August. My final test in my Comm class is Thursday… when I’m homeless.

ANYWAYS – I have made plenty of plans for moving out of my miserable apartment complex early, and the apartment gods are laughing at me. Long story short, it’s just easier for me to keep my keys until the last day of my lease, instead of turning them early. So, my life is in this weird transition of bags and boxes. Things that go into storage, things that go home, things that are shoved into unmarked bags and I’m not sure what I’m doing with.

I HAVE SO MUCH STUFF. It’s so overwhelming that I considered joining the minimalist movement and getting rid of everything I own. I don’t even have furniture… just a bunch of things. Not sure when I accumulated six huge bins and FIVE garbage bags of things. Boxes filled with school supplies. Assorted cleaning products. Bags of cords that go to… something. Plates. Pots. Enough clothing to make at least twenty seven full sized quilts. I decided it was easier to put all this in a storage unit rather than make the pilgrimage to Palm City with all my stuff.

TO DEAL WITH THE STRESSES OF MOVING WEEK

EXHIBIT C: blackened malibu taco that makes my heart sing
EXHIBIT D: Since I’ve never eaten a fried Oreo (or Twinkie, for that matter) I can safely say that onion rings are the mecca of fried food in my mind. Kent and I order them everywhere we go. Jimmy Hula’s are the best ones yet. 

EXHIBIT E: After scrubbing Kent’s house top to bottom and packing mine… we deserved sushi bowls and rolls. amiright? 

EXHIBIT F:  Upon realizing I am in possession of potentially embarassing photos and videos, Kent informed me I am not allowed to share his weirdness with the internet. aka: my weirdo boyfriend cannot be used for your Instagram enjoyment. But… since he voluntarily sent this Snapchat to my sisters, it’s free game, right? That said – if you Snapchat me, be prepared for Kent’s face in return. The guy is a Snapchataholic. 

EXHIBIT G: I found this tank top that I wore last week and this skirt that I wore to k’s birthday dinner this morning in the corner of Kent’s room. So I wore it. In public. (totally gross confession – don’t judge me y’all) July’s wrathful sun beat down and forced me to have that zen moment where you just embrace your sweatiness and go with it. It was one of those days where you walk outside to get the mail and you feel like you have to shower immediately. Florida summers are a nasty bitch sometimes. 
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