Ready to Free My Cheeks As I Please

Whoop! Whoop!

30-Day Writing Challenge, Day 16

We’re back at their hole-in-the-wall. Let me stop calling this establishment that term. I don’t even see any holes in their walls, only a few ceiling tiles hanging low. In all seriousness, I like this spot. The chicken wings SLAP!!! No exaggeration, I mean every capital letter and every exclamation point. The drink pours are generous and the bartenders are welcoming. I enjoy myself every time we come here.. the many times we come.

If you’re ever in New Orleans and you’re looking for an unpretentious place to watch a game and sip cheap drinks, check out Boomers Down the Hatch on N.O.’s Westbank.

My cousin, Raven, and I at Boomers Down the Catch on New Orleans’ Westbank.

I’m still doing what I’m supposed to being doing, because the whole point in giving this 30-day writing challenge a try is to make writing daily a habit. And, will ya looka there…

I’m writing!

Writing Prompt 16: Something That You Miss

I miss these booty cheeks clapping freely.

I suppose I’ve never been fully free, always living with someone in close proximity.

It went from parents, to roommates, to more roommates, more roommates, my final roommate, then landlords. The latter may be the most vexing.

It’s thoughtful and respectful to inform your roommates when you’re going to have company, especially of the opposite sex. However, it’s not required. There’s no requirement to pitch your plans then await their response, not knowing how you can move until they do. Continuously checking in with somebody gets annoying. It gets even more annoying when you’re grown, and exponentially increases the more you don’t like being told anything.

My grandmother used to always tell me, “see, lil’ girl, you, you don’t like to be told nothing!” No. No, I don’t, Granny. No, I don’t.

Extremely indecisive, for days, I’ve been waking up and going to sleep wondering where I’m going next. It got so bad with the back-and-forth in my mind that I said, “carry ya tail home, teekay.” Then, I was immediately hit with the feeling of “ugh,” not ready to return to my residence yet.

I miss traditional leasing.

Don’t get me wrong, I definitely appreciate the feeling of family from leasing from a family. I take comfort in knowing that if I were to go missing, I wouldn’t be gone for long before my landlords are filing a missing persons report. I appreciate the occasional fresh-baked blueberry muffin. And, someone two steps away that can unlock my door, unclog my shower drain, or kill a spider for me, is definitely convenient. However, what I’m missing has begun to outweigh the perks.

I miss my privacy.

I miss my autonomy.

I miss me.

Buuuuuuuut, the most important benefit of leasing from a little old lady is the little old price. Whew! I live in a rather affluent neighborhood of Los Angeles and am pretty sure I pay less for my unit than anyone nearby for an equivalent space. I don’t want to give up my location and I for darn sure don’t want my rent to triple, nor quadruple.

If I made waaaaaaay more money, would I be willing to pay the ridiculous apartment building rent rates in Los Angeles? If I was signed on a lease to a more expensive residence, would I make more money?

I need to figure something. I don’t want to dread returning to where I pay rent.

Okay, we’re about to take some shots my cousin’s old man had the bartender bring over.

Later, my loves!