My dad deposited my Last Ever Check today. The umbilical cord has been cut. It was getting pretty withered and infected, anyway; they aren't really meant to stay attached for 23 years. I've gone through all the motions of growing up already – I moved all my stuff out of my old bedroom and started referring to Baltimore as "home" years ago – but it's all been a front, there's been a fleshy cord drawing nutrients from my dad's B of A account and into my bellybutton this entire time.
Now I just have to prove that I'm viable. Sooner or later the universe is going to give me a big wallop on the back, and then presumably I'll start breathing.
In other news, I'm quitting smoking. My mom has been hassling me about it for years; now that I haven’t had a cigarette in three days, she's hassling me about how much I'm eating.
She pointed out that I can't afford an entire new wardrobe of fat clothes, which I have to admit is a good point.
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