Last Tuesday, I escaped from snowy Connecticut. It’s been 6 weeks since I’ve lived at home for more than 2 straight days (well, OK, I was there for almost a week when our flights to WA were canceled), and it’s been a strange adjustment. When you live somewhere else most of the time, you start to develop bad co-habitation habits. Maybe you drink more milk, knowing that you’re not going to be paying the price of empty milk, because you’ll be living in a hotel in a day. Your life becomes very existential. Eat, drink, for tomorrow you go back to Connecticut. I actually only ended up coming home twice between 12/13 and 1/18. I went home for one day on my anniversary, and two the first weekend of January. Jen bought a little pet dog when I was gone, but when I came back I opened the door, and threw a strip of bacon outside then closed it and made believe it no longer existed. I think it moved to a farm in the country.
OK, there was no dog. I could make up stuff for a while, but instead, I’ll just go to bed.
Words 
At least you’re free of the bedbugs =)