changing location and horrible habit

Alas, it is time for my borrowed kitchen location to switch up. In the next few weeks I will be moving in with my friend, C. She lives super close to the farmer's market but further away from my workplace. Closer to the bus station, further away from P. I will not have a lease, which is GREAT because that means I can still borrow her kitchen. And between the two of us we can cook any type of food in the world, I bet. 

I do have a problem, though. Leaving P's house means that I will have to change my comfortable living situation. I like living here a lot. The past two months have meant a lot to me. There have been lots of memories. 

My dad came for my graduation. It was the first time I had seen him in two years, maybe three. It was great. He traveled for three days across the country to see me graduate. It ended up being a little ceremony with the four grads from the environmental studies program. Dad stayed here only for a few days, but helped me do something really awesome. He helped with the garden. 

My dad is the kind of guy that can't really sit still. He'll always be around doing something, even if it's just hanging out in the kitchen. But he's always doing something. I should have expected that he would want need to help. He just does that. 

I wrote a little bit about him in one of my English classes. I wrote about home and the way I felt, looking back, about California. I think I specifically wrote about how Dad felt an unwavering duty to finish any snack food around him. Anything. 

My dad is a pretty cool guy. 

I happen to take after him in a lot of ways. Not only are my facial features similar, but I tend to have a problem agreeing with clocks, have an incredible ability to be the person cars go to before they die (or put to sleep), and I have a taste for snacks, particularly the salty ones.

Here is my crazy connection. I got my love of junk food from my dad. He moved me into P's house. P has a love for Nutella and pretzels and can (most importantly) control herself when it comes to eating certain junk foods. 

Me? Hell no. I can consume some junk like no other. And P got me hooked on pretzels and Nutella. 

And now we're out of Nutella. I'm so hooked that I tried to sub peanut butter. There is no way in hell that peanut butter can compare. 

Thanks, Dad. Thanks, P. Above all, thank you sweet/salty combination Nutella-pretzel partnership. My waist thanks you.