(Start Here)

Believe it or not its 8:18pm and I am only now opening the bottle of wine. It is a double bottle of Barefoot Cab Sauv, absolutely covered in dust. I pulled it blindly, feeling for a softly curved neck behind the dog bed, the fireplace utensils, and the chair that I’ve never seen anyone sit in. The color of this wine is not the right one. I know that it will not be good when I taste it but it will be something and at this point that is better than nothing. I’ve just taken a sip and it’s terrible.

Today is the first day of my new blog, Young Millennial. Here’s what I can catch you up on from before we met,

1. I am 28, last week was my birthday, 2. I have just inherited the responsibility of two dogs and a house in the suburbs, 3. My dad is dying from cancer, and 4. I am painfully single and unwillingly turning into a career woman

I am sure that there is more to me but at this moment, these are my most defining qualities. This and my apparent affinity for skunked wine.

The highlight of my day today besides my dad waking up from a week long coma was the mischief I made at Michael’s. I don’t like Michael’s, the product is tacky and low quality. Was always more of a JoAnn’s girlie (RIP) but I need to make curtains and I had no where else to turn. I don’t know where the fabric stores are here and I am not in the mood to try. I need something quick and easy, Michael’s is like the drive-thru of art supplies stores. Anyway, in the single isle with one-hundred and fifty tacky patterns, I found one that was ok. It matches the color of my dad’s room, which is now my room. I read that replacing the bedding and curtains is a fast way to make a space your own. Right before my dad decided to sleep for a week he had bought me a Singer Heavy Duty 6600 for my birthday. It is wonderful– computerized! And there are some really neat stitches. I picked out a fabric with peacocks. Personally, one week ago I don’t think I would have chosen it but I am nearly positive I have skipped the end of my twenties, bypassed my thirties and arrived at menopause. The reality is that the peacocks match the paint, and I can’t repaint for the foreseeable future. I waited for someone to cut my fabric for ten minutes, and then I just did it myself. The shears were unlocked and the table was totally accessible. I cut exactly how much I said I needed and told the cashier exactly how much I cut. You would have thought this was watergate (I don’t actually know what happened at watergate). “You can’t do that!” they howled as the underpaid soulless crafters snatched the cut fabric out of my hands. They had to call management, who remeasured the fabric. Two women supervised me as I waited to pay. They printed out a new sign that was a result of my actions reading “Please Wait For An Attendant” except unnecessarily aggressive in all caps. I was very nice but maybe they saw the anger I felt on the inside. It is sad that corporations have killed communities across America.

Then, I purchased a Pussy Willow. That’s right, I bought a tree. I am going to plant it in the backyard of my new responsibility. There are many trees surrounding the house my grandmother planted– I am to become the third generation of groundskeeper here. I haven’t planted it yet, but I am planning on doing so after the blooms fully fall off. I forgot to mention, I am a master gardener so feel free to reach out with any questions and maybe I will get back to you.

I look forward to chatting tomorrow.