small children move so quickly for such small things.
test shot: thanksgiving day
when i woke up, the blanket we fought over last night as we all claimed couches was too warm to stay under and too comfortable to throw off.
my boots clicked too loudly in a giant house and the light shone too proudly into the basement.
driving home from day-after-thanksgiving-museuming
either 91 or 84, headed south or west
Washington Square Park
a stranger gave us a box of birthday cake, and she even remembered plates, forks and napkins.
an onion that is busy being beautiful is no wasted onion.
in the morning Lindsey apologized for the apartment being messy. “it’s kind of frat-y, i’m so embarrassed, euuuuughhhh.”
"lindsey," i said, "there are calvin & hobbes and dr. seuss books all over the floor, there’s beer being home-brewed in the middle of the kitchen, your organic co-op onions are sprouting and there’s a mess at the biscuit station. the biscuit station. you want to call this frat-y?”
they are my favorite set of roommates.