Something else that seriously sucks about growing up is that now when I see pictures of some beautiful, secluded house plucked straight from a fairy tale, my first thought no longer is God I want to live there and write poems and open all the windows when there’s a storm outside so I can be R*E*A*L and unreal at the same time but rather Okay, but it looks so humid and I bet it doesn’t have good insulation or double-glazed windows and what about wifi, mh, and what if I had a medical emergency, or fancied onion rings in the middle of the night? 

Like, I remember scoffing at some tourists who were standing right next to me and wondering out loud how the hell you’d even clean the Parthenon, but now I get it.