Weak!

Wait... no... that's not right... I meant to say

Week!

Yeah, that's more like it. One more week and I'll be, well, not at home anymore, because home happens Wednesday. The house I'm looking forward to visiting, however, will show up in its boxy blue glory two days late, at very early in the morning o'clock. And I'll be there until very late in the evening o'clock, unless, of course, I opt to just move in, which would greatly upset two sets of parents and cost me most of my belongings that I can't bring in a backpack on the train... but it will save me a five dollar commute. Hmm...

Speaking of Nicole, because I was speaking of Nicole, I haven't spoken to her in a few days... sad... she's far too busy for her own good.* I'm trying not to be the whiney, clingy bitch I am on the inside, which is to say, only leaving five weepy messages on her voicemail per day instead of ten, and no more than twenty instant messages directed at her away message per hour. Seems fair, yes? Yes? YES?

*Originally, be it typo or pure Freudian slip, I explained that she was too busty for her own good. It's a lie, though, she's just busty enough.