So, big surprise – my house I tried to sell and have been renting out for the past year? It did not sell. And my tenant is moving out. And my mortgage payment has been lowered and is now less than rent I am paying now….so Professor Boyfriend and I will be moving there. This week, actually. Taking finals, giving finals, and moving. In crap ass weather. I must be damn ass crazy. BUT! I am looking forward to moving back to my little bungalow. I can make NEW memories there with my little fuzzy love muffin….erm. Note: Remind to never use the phrase “my little fuzzy love muffin” ever again.
But moving means packing. And packing means finding really, really great old stuff from the high school days.
I also found a play I wrote in fourth grade about princesses slaying dragons and how it was unfair that only boys were allowed to do it (it was water damaged, but I may have read some of it out loud to the Professor).
But the biggest surprise I found because I totally thought maybe it was blown away in the Joplin Tornado was this:
In fourth grade, I rubbed elbows with the some pretty famous people. And yes, I am fully aware I put the Stephen King postcard on top of Bill Clinton’s letter. It’s called priorities, people. And in fourth grade my priorities were: reading, whales, and reading about whales. I remember writing Stephen King a fan letter because some young punk ass jerks in my class for some reason were making fun of me and calling me weird because they saw me reading The Shining and Carrie and IT. Because reading at an advanced level was social suicide. So I wrote Mr. King and told him I spirited away books from my grandma and read them and I could read them well and kids made fun of me and said I was weird. When I received his postcard back, I was sort of disappointed at the response. But then I looked down. HE TYPED SOMETHING. HE TYPED SOMETHING DIRECTLY TO ME. Fourth grade me swooned. I wasn’t weird. Stephen King said so. And all those other kids? They could eat my shorts.
Under that is a letter from Bill Clinton assuring me that Vice President Al Gore and him were doing everything they could to stop whale poaching. Which, you know, is pretty cool. I was a little bit of a hippie as a kid. Still kind of am.
A Stephen King reading hippie.
So. thanks Stephen King, for making a little lonely girl in the Midwest feel not so alone.
IT scared the shit out of me.