It’s pretty weird being a young twenty-something living with four other twenty-somethings in a house on a suburban street full of families.  Kids bike past our house to the bus stop every morning, and they scooter through the streets after school and on weekends.  There is a bright pink plastic swing hanging from a tree in the yard across the street from us.  And apparently, there is a golden doodle owned by an Indian man that loves (and I mean loves) to run around our tree.

With a real house comes a real doorbell.  It’s pretty exciting, especially when it rings and I think someone wants to say hi, but usually it’s just the delivery guy dropping off a package and my hopes are dashed yet again.

Yesterday, the doorbell rang and there were two young boys at the door selling magazines.  Roomatt answered the door and, in a classic Roomatt move, was ultimately coerced into buying a yearlong subscription to Men’s Health.  The boys at the door were super confused when they saw Arnaud walking around the dining room in the background, and me passing the front door on my way to the kitchen.  I’m not sure what they think our living situation is, but I’d love to hear their opinion on the matter.

On a related note, I’m super excited for home-delivery of girl scout cookies come February.  I definitely didn’t think that would be a possibility until my late twenties, especially now that renting an apartment in San Francisco is more expensive than renting a French castle.  We’re gonna be the go-to house for this neighborhood for sureDoorbells are the best.

kids knocking on the door selling magazines.  Roomatt bought a magazine from them.  Excited for girl scout cookie season

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