she hands me my raincoat

It's 3 a.m. I have the best roommate in the world - quiet, affectionate, sanitary, and tolerant of my late-night habits. I love her. I wonder if she misses sleeping on top of the cars at home. Me, I miss very little - I can't think of anything, in fact, that I seriously miss. I see my parents and brother almost daily. But at the same time, every time I gather my things to leave after dinner, I feel hollow. Dunno, maybe I miss being a kid and the comfort of having someone else be in charge.

Also, it's noisy here at night. Not intolerably noisy, but the cars, the neighboring buildings, it's a lot more noise than I'm used to. I'm also really conscious of the noise I make - even my talking voice seems loud. Not sure what I'm going to do when I finally get a TV/stereo - so far I've been watching Gilmore Girls on my laptop and listening to CDs on a boom box recently pulled out of the trash.

I've become much more appreciative of my dad's eye for trash-to-treasure, accepting the aforementioned source of music, a reading light, a wobbly shoe rack, and the majority of my furniture from the Weekend Job. I've always been an enthusiastic White Elephant clothes shopper and so figured that ex-tenants' left-behinds are just like tent sales except the stuff's free. Voila, new dresses. I drew the line, however, at a box of crackers someone left in the laundry room. All seals were intact and the expiration date's sometime next year - in fact, someone probably bought it, stopped for their mail on their way upstairs, and forgot it on the table. Still, though, food is different. You can't wash it sixty times to kill the germs and you just don't know where it's been.

Moochable wireless - finally located a good spot. I have to lie at a funny angle on my bed but it's worth not having to sit downstairs in the guest parking with the windows rolled all the way down ...