Tomorrow is my day off. Since I started working again, days off mean so much more. I can lay around the house with a sense of purpose - I am relaxing. However, my plans for tomorrow are more fun than laying around. Rock Star and I are going downtown, likely to window shop. I enjoy window shopping, when I can keep focus enough to remember that I can't afford new clothes.

We're currently planning a camping trip. I'd bring Brent and she'd bring her new manfriend, Phil. We also want to invite Catholic, Andrew, Ella and Annabelle. It would be good fun. We're thinking about the 13th and 14th of July. I haven't been camping in a long time. I think it would be a lot of fun.

My dad talked to me today. He found an apartment and will be moving in in a week or two. He has place for my storage. He has calmed down, seems to be trying to make peace in his own way and I accept that. I will be staying here. It's for the best if I stay here. We made arrangements with what to do with my belongings. Since I will be coming home to my Aunt's on holidays and otherwise, I told him to throw away my bed. I have had it since I was out of the crib and with my futon, I no longer have any use for it. I will be taking my dresser and bookshelf, the only thing from my room he needs to take care of for me is my make up table. It was the last present my mother ever gave me. I think she knew she was dying. She liked to give small things to bring character to a room. The table, which was given for no real reason other than she had always wanted one as a girl, was out of the ordinary. She had wanted to do one last memorable thing for me. I adore that table. I wish I had room for it. Next year I will.

I keep thinking about my third year of school. Brent and I plan to live together. A one bedroom apartment split between us will be cheaper than anything we've done so far, plus I'd have room for all my things and my cats as well. By the time that happens we will have been together for 3 years. We'll be 21. Well, I'd be 21 shortly. It's scary to think that. 20. It seems so final. You can never call yourself a child after that. No one can call you a child again. 19 is kind of transitional. You can legally do everything an adult can do but you're still in your teens, technically. I guess I'm a little nervous about it. Brent will be 20 in July.

At least I have the privilage of calling him 'old fart' for half a year ^_^

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