I mean, who refridgerates peanut butter?
That's just...outlandish and unncessary.

Take note, Matthew.

So far so good. I realized tonight that I miss this vibage - Of being on my own. Of being surrounded by cats who are up slaving away at ungodly hours of the night. It's therapeutic, and it keeps me up. In more ways than one.

I like the proximity to stuff out here. If we wanted to, we could close our laptops & bounce the hell up out of hizzere. Jeezus - pubs, diners, clubs, cafes, venues, whateverthefuck. Back on teh Northside, I could go......to sleep.

There's such a disconnect under my parents' roof. Granted they're old and stuff, the 'rents themselves aren't a problem. It's just that I've been feeling stifled. I miss my space.

I was on my own for half my college career. I think it's nearing the time for me to uproot.

This realization excites me for the first tangibly real time in recent memory.

Now, at 1:54 AM, Val continues typing up her Friday presentation on Frederick Jackson Turner. She sits on the floor with her laptop upturned to face her. Her books are strewn about. Raven sits nearby, typing in simlar manner. Matt sits outside on the living room floor, working on a laptop propped up on the coffee table. ...and singing along to the first tolerable song of the night - an atmospheric mellow jam, even though it is a GIRL mellow jam.

Yet all is well at the Raven-Matthew residence...

All is well...