if life were easy, it wouldn't be hard...that sounds just fine and dandy to me.

so here i am again, sitting in my summer apartment. so why am i still here. i should be content in my new studio apartment tucked away in a garden alcove, hanging pictures, eating egg mcmuffins and sleeping in my bed. well that is not the case.

my plan of moving from my summer getaway (or in plain jane terms "sublease") to my new vintage studio with hardwood floors and massive closet space totally blew up in my face when i met back up with my new fancy on tuesday afternoon. all of my ideas of how i was going to fit furniture here and there to where i was going to park after vacating the gym was dunzo. no more. nada.

so what does any girl do? call her mother. trying to fight back the tears, i phone sherbear. as i began to explain the situation, my voice cracked and the tears began to roll down my face like raindrops. well more like niagara falls. it just wasn't fair. why wasn't my life perfect and wonderful like the way i left it before my vacay. why did chicago all of a sudden feel so cold and lonely on a beautiful hot summer day? it wasn't like the feeling of fear i had felt three months ago. instead, it was the feeling of emptiness and disappointment all wrapped into one sinking farther and farther down my throat. it wouldn't go away. not fair. absolutely, not fair.

my final vent to sherbear led me to phone my next go-to person. i ran to the one place that felt like home to me in a city where everything else was against me. i ran to the one person that knows me in a city where everyone else was a stranger to me. my little summer getaway and my little j to the j.

to get my mind off my up-rooted life, j to the j and i did aimless errands buying nonsense items. i mean seriously what am i going to do with a kitchen starter set now with no kitchen? long story short, j to the j and i retreated back to my little mole hill with holy wall (no these walls are definitely not blessed by Jesus), dirty walls, trashed floors, broken window and a poopy toilet.

as we stood in the kitchen or the trashcan, which describes it better, i got a much awaited phone call from my new best friends, mr.&mrs. i was suppose to be happy because tonight mr.&mrs. were delivering my bed with its lush mattress and deep cherry wood headboard. even though i was happy to see mr.&mrs. when they arrived on my crooked front door step, i was still disgusted with my crappy little hole in the wall.

my long awaited studio is still in shambles and looks like a shanty from cabrini green. story of my life. pain in my ass.

just like when your parents say "if life were easy, it wouldn't be hard." i like to say "well, hell, that sounds just fine and dandy to me."