It's very quiet here right now. The housemates are all sleeping. It is only seven thirty.
I am reading the best book. It's called the Time Traveler's Wife. I am trying to get A., the aforementioned boyfriend back at home, to read it, but he claims that he has a stack of three books lined up that he should be reading that he hasn't touched yet.
I responded with, "Great! in the next four months three books should be like cake."
(I think that means I win, but I'm not sure.)
Mood: Loved
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