I’m starting to think I committed some seriously heinous acts in my past lives.

When I woke up this morning, I did it bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I was like a little kid on Christmas waking up an hour before my alarm was scheduled to go off. I got ready, pulling my wild curls back into a bun so they’d stay out of the way, and applied a healthy amount of sunscreen to my skin. After much internal debate, I pulled out my camera and tucked it away in my backpack. I even filled up an extra water bottle for Jasper.

In fact, I was in such a good mood and this morning was going so well, I used the spare time I had to sit and read some of the first book from the list Jasper made me. I wasn’t sure what I was going to think of this book, but so far, so good. It’s not a “typical” book. The format is different; it’s like someone put the transcript from a documentary into book format. I know it’s why Jasper put this first on the list; it’s the perfect way to ease me in. Plus, the concept is really cool. It’s about a band from the seventies and the characters are all messy, messy, messy. Which is my favorite aesthetic. I appreciate that the characters have real flaws.

Of course, after the perfect morning and ready for the perfect day, I walked outside to find my Jeep with not one, but two flat tires.

Bright side? At least it didn’t happen in Colorado Springs?

But two hours and four hundred dollars later, that’s all I can come up with.

I pull to a stop in front of an adorable bungalow in Washington Park. It’s my dream neighborhood. Gran lived not far from here and I spent more time at her house than I did my own. My dad sold it for seven figures thanks to an overabundance of Denver transplants and skyrocketing housing prices. I doubt I’ll ever be able to afford anything over here, but who cares? Not me. Why build equity and own something when I can just throw my money away every single month to a landlord who raises the rent every other year but doesn’t do anything to improve the building?

Living every millennial’s dream.