It is really stunning how little I have to talk about lately. You'll think I suck at writing and I am neglectful of this thing, which is in large part true, but it's also that there hasn't been anything funny or artsy-pretentious for me to talk about since I got sick (I think the rib has traveled back from the area of my kidneys and reattached itself, by the way, judging by the fact that I no longer feel the urge to scream every time I do anything). I wish I had graduated already and my nose is still big. That's it.
I guess the one good thing is that the process of cleaning up the Delaware house has led to a new bed in my room here. I never thought the transition from a fifty year old twin to a new full could be so enriching. It's like sleeping on a baby's butt, except without the mess.
Give me another couple days and I'll think up something interesting to talk about. Or else Dad will have made my head explode. Whichever.