The funny thing about moving out of your parents' house and in with some dudes is the realization that somewhere down the line, someone is going to have to clean all the ass hair from the toilet seat, and this time there is no way it's gonna be your mom.
I believe this week marks the two year anniversary of my leaving home. I can't believe I haven't been evicted, murdered, fired, raped, crucified etc in two sets of 365 days. (Gargantuan Knock On Wood!)
Also, as of yesterday at 11:00 pm, I am completely done playing instruments, making vocalizations, or conjuring rhyming patterns of clever words out of thin air for "To the Mattresses", in addition to being completely done with CommunityCollegeWork, so I believe that my summer starts today.
Thinking about it, it's a source of supreme comfort to think that no matter what life throws my way in the future, its pretty hard to imagine any of it being worse than being circumsized (with no anesthetic! I realize this is the typical way) way back at age zero. Sure, I have no recollection of that catastrophic event at all, but that's a blessing I can't even describe. With any luck, that will be the lowest, most agonizing point of my life, and it's many, many years behind me.
Next time you're having a bad day, think about your (or your brother's, or your father's, or your boyfriend's) circumcision, and consider:
Is this really worse than getting part of your dick chopped off when you were a few hours old?
And be consoled.
Look crotch-ward, ye mighty civilization, and find strength in your circumcisions!