I was supposed to have a sort-of date yesterday. He had to cancel because he’s sick. It’s probably a bad sign that I was relieved. The relief didn’t have anything to do with him, though; I was relieved because a) now I could leave the house wearing the same sweatshirt I’d had on the last time I saw him, and b) I’m a germaphobe. I don’t like sick people. When I’m the one who’s sick, I don’t even like myself.
Happy Halloween, everybody! I’m going as Spider-Man. More accurately, I’m going as the loser standing over in a distant corner of the party wearing a Spider-Man hoodie and eating all the food. I was this last year also.
Hoo boy. That title was a mouthful. But I feel so icky and not creative. I’m constantly blowing my nose. This was a problem in class, because I managed to get the desk nobody ever wants—the one that’s deeply entrenched in the jungle of other haphazardly placed desks, so you have to climb over six people every time you want a Kleenex.
My roommate put up our Christmas lights, and they look AH-MAZING. Her ex-boyfriend visited this weekend, and within hours of meeting me he apparently felt comfortable enough in our relationship where he could just strip off his pants with zero weirdness whatsoever.
Also? The movie trailer for “The Hunger Games” is out, and it looks AWESOME.
(Seventeen days until December! WOOHOO!)