Am I allowed to say that even though I moved here all of a week ago? I’d argue yes. I mean, I’m sitting here in the sun while my house on the other coast gets dumped with snow and water and cold. I think I win this round.

I heroically managed to fit most of my stuff in two suitcases, a duffel, and a giant backpack to move out to the west coast. My boyfriend Will also insists on counting everything I shoved in his bag when he came to visit over New Year’s, but I am still pretty impressed with myself. Also skis! We both got skis for Christmas and bought season passes to the mountains near Lake Tahoe, so that’s super exciting. I’ve never been a local on a mountain before, but I imagine it’s a similar feeling to the one I had growing up at the beach and making fun of all the tourists. Some people call this feeling being aloof and disdainful; I just think of it succintly as I-know-where-I’m-going-we’ve-all-seen-dolphins-a-million-times-no-that-is-not-a-shark-get-out-of-the-way-before-I-run-you-over. Being a local is the best.

I think the best part of being an adult is actually having weekends. I literally have a whole two days to do whatever I want. It’s glorious! But then of course Will and I both get sick the first weekend when we were supposed to go skiing and instead have to do adult things like find health cards so we can go get our medication. Much less exciting. Maybe next time.

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