When I was eighteen my best friend and I moved out together.
We got a cheap apartment in a sketchy area of a sketchy little sleepy town ten minutes north of our hometown.
We were the first of our friends to move out and have adult responsibilities, though with the perspective of age I look back at those years and shake my head at the idea that I was anything close to an actual adult at that point in my life.
That period of the post-high school version of playing house left me with some amazing memories, not the least of which involved our friends surfing our inflatable couch down the apartment stairs.
Our poor neighbors!
Anyway, one thing that our apartment was never, ever without was a package of chicken fried steak in the freezer.
No, not for me. I can appreciate the flavor but I'm not really a meat-and-potatoes type.
But my best friend was.
Oh my gosh was she.