Right now I’m headed over to my parents’ house, and since they are well-meaning but practical folk, they will be armed with frowns and pads of paper and calculators and all sorts of reasons why moving to New York in a few weeks is a horrible idea, and I will undoubtedly cry, not because I’m a pussy, but because I’m really stereotypically emotionally premenstrual right now, and all I want to do is sit here and eat an entire fucking dinner of chocolate. And also because I’m a pussy.
UPDATE: I spoke too soon. They were armed with pads of paper and calculators and really good ideas and love and support. I feel bad for underestimating just how kickass my parents are.