My mind is a strange and frightening jungle.

What I wore: 30 days. No outfit repeats. Day 19.
Shirt, PacSun. Shoes, DIY (originally from Target). Tights, Express. Dress, Toska. 

Lately, I've been exhibiting some very disturbing behavior.

For example, last night I spent several hours awhile shopping for houses online.

This would be totally fine...if we were looking to buy a home.

Which we're definitely not, because houses in Los Angeles are so insanely expensive that I'd need to sell some organs and get Yoshi into
professional dog modeling in order for us to buy one right now.

But did that little fact stop me from searching diligently for my dream abode?
No, it did not.

I will say, though, that at least I restricted myself to looking at houses that would be realistic for us to potentially buy sometime in our lives (i.e. no million dollar mansions). I haven't found the perfect house yet (requires stucco, ceramic roofing, arched doorways, hardwood floors, unique details and maybe a pool in the back) but I'm not too terribly worried,
as I've probably got at least five years to find it.

But that's not even the most frightening of my behaviors. No, it gets worse.

As of late, I've been enamored with babies. 

Yeah. Babies. 

(As they read this 1,800 miles away in Missouri, my parents are gasping with fear)

If you know me, you know I've never really been a kid person. I didn't grow up around babies and as a result, I don't really know what to do with them. I don't know how to hold them or feed them or what milestones they're supposed to reach at what age. I'm terrified to hold other people's babies,
afraid that I might accidentally break them. 

I guess I wasn't exactly born with any of that motherly intuition stuff. 

But my facebook has been blowing up with pictures of baby bumps and tiny baby smiles and adorably decorated nurseries, and I've been enthralled. 

And it's weird because having children just seems so adult. 

(perhaps because it is)
And then I think...well...I am an adult
(or at least, I'm supposed to be).

No worries, though. 

I know those cute little baby rolls come with a hefty price tag.

18+ years of dedication, a ton of money that (as previously mentioned) we don't have
and a whole lot of sleepless nights.

(Plus, I hear that babies poop more than once per day,
and we can barely handle Yoshi's once-daily potty trip)

Nope, no babies or houses for us.

Not for at least three more years (by the time I'm 26 I'll feel like a legitimate adult, right?).

Until then, I'm going to thoroughly enjoy our expensive little apartment and the freedom to have a messy living room, strewn with things that could potentially trip or choke small children and to blow all of my monthly allowance on clothes, and the only baby-related thing I'm going to do is mentally plan perfect first name/middle name combinations for our future children. 

And I'm not going to tell you what those name combinations are.
(But trust me, they're pretty good.) 

Stick around and maybe you'll find out in a few years.