Yesterday I spent the day with tons of my friends who were all celebrating our friend Jen’s birthday. About 8:00 pm, when I was warming up a plate of Thanksgiving leftovers and then getting ready for my photo shoot (think: Christmas cards) I said to Corelyn, who was helping me get ready, “This is what I always pictured adult life to be.” We had been hanging out since 11:00 am.

At one point were nearly twenty people in my house, all eating cake we’d made and the coffee we’d brewed. We were opening presents and playing “Jen-trivia,” a year-long tradition that has made us know that much more about our LA base.

Near six, people started leaving, and Cor and I snuggled closer on the couch, not getting up to hug everyone goodbye. “Sorry, we’re jerks,” we exclaimed, but made no move to stand.

Our friend C smiled, bent over to hug us, and said, “It’s ok. It’s different when you’re family.” And we agreed.

There were five of us left, hanging out in my apartment, chattering about the past two days, talking about Internet sensations, about Thanksgiving leftovers, about moving our friend two days later. I had a conversation with my friend S about life; I went to the kitchen and chatted with M about her life, her new job, etc. I then moved to the bathroom with Cor, and smiled. This is adult life I thought. Or maybe twentysomething life; hanging out with friends that you treat like family, getting to choose how you spend your time, no homework to do, just time. Time to fill with cooking, and eating, and chatting, and Book Club, and wine tastings and birthday cakes and watching movies.

This, this right here? This is the good life.