But Still...

Gah. I just want to be twenty something and live by myself in an empty apartment in a rainy city with a good bar a few blocks away and a car that putters but never fails. I'll have a room with only an easel and paint spattered newspaper for carpet and I'll eat only dry Cheerios for the irony and black coffee because I love black coffee and I'll have too many dresses and and not enough hairpins and furniture made out of stacked books.