One of my life-long favorite foods is a PB&J. Recently I’ve been able to enjoy this fine delicacy since I’ve moved out of my parents residence. Though it isn’t my first time living on my own, it certainly feels different. I have my own room, my own place, and only the responsibilities I place upon myself. This is a phase in my life that I have to go through. I am more independent than ever and have all the grown-up responsibilities that I didn’t have last year while I was living in Canada while attending Sheridan. I have felt lately that I am maybe too responsible for my age. I’ve felt this way for a number of years now and I can’t grasp whether it is a good thing or not. On one hand it makes sure that I do the things I’m supposed to. On the other it makes me very anal in regards to the way I think things should be. This is off-putting for some. Non-the-less, I’m on my own and am doing the growing-up part of life. All the while eating PB&J’s (the crunchy kind of PB, finally!)
Snowed pretty bad last night. Had to shovel a lot this morning. Wished other room-mate would pitch in a little. Instead, I only saw foot prints in the snow where he’d walked across the fully snowed in driveway.
Kind of odd that someone would accidentally break a glass of someone else and just leave it broken on the counter top. This is what I encounter when I go to make my PB&J this evening. I did the right thing and put it in a paper bag and cleared the small shattered pieces so no one would hurt themselves. Really?