If we were at happy hour, I’d order a pina colada. You’d ask me why I ordered such an obnoxious drink, and I’d tell you it’s because I leave for Hawaii on Saturday. YESSSSS.
If we were at happy hour, you’d be shooting me jealous glances because of the whole Hawaii thing. I’d notice, then flag down the waiter and order you a pina colada as well. Something about a blended cocktail with an umbrella sticking out of it does wonders to improve a person’s mood. Feeling better yet?
If we were at happy hour, I’d tell you that I officially signed a lease on an apartment in San Diego. It’s awesome and I love it. I’ll drive down on June 19th. Your jaw would drop because that’s, like, a month away. You’re gonna miss me, huh?
If we were at happy hour, I’d confess that I’ve been obsessed with furnishing my apartment. All throughout undergrad, I lived in a pre-furnished apartment so I never had to buy big pieces of furniture. I’m making up for it now. I’ve been trolling home decor blogs and Pinterest boards and Instagram pages like it’s my freaking job (<< a problem because I have an actual job and therefore not enough time to do this).
If we were at happy hour, I’d reassure you that yes, I will definitely share pictures and videos of my apartment once it’s all decorated. Because I know that’s weighing heavy on your mind. I just know it is.
If we were at happy hour, I’d tell you that my online classes start June 1 (while I’m in Hawaii… whomp whomp). The online classes will feed into the in-person classes, which start July 8th, I’d say. Then I’d start whining: IT’S ALL HAPPENING SO FAST.
If we were at happy hour, you’d call me out on my whining. You’d be all, I thought you were “so excited” for grad school? What’s with the bitching? I’d thank you for calling me on my bullshit, because you’re right. I am excited. I’m excited to read my textbooks. I’m excited to meet my cohort. I’m BEYOND excited to live in San freakin’ Diego. You’re such a good friend.
If we were at happy hour, I’d pull out my phone and start showing you pictures of the kids I nanny for. You’d throw me a few obligatory “aws” and “so cutes” before asking why the hell I was bombarding you with picture of children that aren’t even mine. I’d get a little teary-eyed and tell you that Friday is my last day of being their nanny. And that I’m just so sad about it. Then you’d instruct me to take a drink. You’re crying in a restaurant, for fuck’s sake. You need to keep chugging, you’d say. Great advice, buddy.
If we were at happy hour, I’d tell you that I have to go finish packing (the worst), but that I’d be Instagramming tons of picture from Hawaii so you can live vicariously through me there.
IN THE COMMENTS:
Ever been to Hawaii? What island? We’re going to Maui… Can’t wait!
Favorite tropical drink?