Living in LA: part 1

It was the year 2000 and I had been out of college for a year. I was young and restless and my on again, off again boyfriend/now husband wasn’t ready to make any long term commitments, and I wasn’t ready to sit around and wait any longer. So after visiting my best friend who had recently moved to LA, and LOVING it, I spontaneously decided to make a very bold and scary move across the country by myself. I still remember the feeling I had as I rolled into LA with my packed Turquoise Honda Civic packed to the gills. It was complete and utter fear. Like what the hell have I done here?! What was I thinking?! Did I seriously leave everyone and everything I know?! Would it be lame if I turned this car around and drove straight back home?! It was half panic and half exhilaration. I had been emotionally co-dependent on Jeff for awhile (hello, 22 yr old girl) and I was ready to prove to him and more importantly, myself, that I could be on my own. Like, REALLY on my own. I tend to go big or go home, so naturally, LA was the perfect place to land. ๐Ÿ˜‰

I moved in with my best friendย and her roommate Jimmy. Jimmy was her boyfriend’s best friend and he owned this cute little house. I shared her room with her for a few weeks until her parents came to visit from Michigan. I was sent to sleep on the couch in the living room so they could have her bed. This couch guys… it was wrong. Oy! That first morning I woke up on that couchย covered from head to toe in freaking flea bites. Awesome. NOT. I mean, beggars can’t be choosers and I was crashing for free at this point, so I wasn’t about to complain, but this was a hard fall from the clean and sanitary sleeping conditions I had known back in Oklahoma. After what seemed like a very long week of being attacked by fleas on a disgusting couch, things came to an ugly head. My friend and I got in a huge fight because Jimmy was annoyed that her parents were crashing there for so long. He liked his weed and his tv and all of us were putting a serious cramp in his daily slacker routine. So out I went, on my own, to my first real apartment in LA.

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