hello, good friend

My family’s visiting! (Well, my family minus one brother.) Godspell sold out Friday through Sunday, so I hope you’re in possession of tickets. It’ll prove a riotous time.

In other news, this semester’s hitting a significant lull. My roomies and I have resorted to TV-watching, homeworking, and gyming. (Maybe that happens during the final semester. Dramatic deceleration. No complaints here.) For fun, I spent yesterday afternoon chucking ice sheets from my car roof. Today I Swiffered our kitchen. We anxiously anticipate sunshine and all things green. That’s why we’re already planning our spring break excursion to South Carolina.

Of the gym-frequenting: my girlfriends have suddenly kicked their work-out motivations into high gear, and I’m struggling to follow suit. I met them at the gym circa 5pm Wednesday night, and I will probably never venture into that territory again. Now I know where the entire student body hides out on weeknights. From now on, I claim 8am. Maybe. If I can coax myself out of bed.

My fiancé and I would like to use this forum to formally advocate elopement. Bring your parents, bring your sibs, bring your closest, wealthy-enough-to-fly-to-the-Caribbean friends. But, please, consider the advantages of small, private, tan-included affairs.

Sure, you say you won’t budge on hosting anything larger than the mythical “intimate family gathering.” But intimate family gatherings propagate exponentially when they include Great Aunt Mildred (Who is that anyway? She’s apparently related to everyone in the world but me.), who casually mentions the occasion to her Bunko cronies, and word travels to distant acquaintances, who all want inclusion on the please-buy-me-a-gift list, then suddenly you’re inviting your former preschool teacher, your penpal from North Dakota, and your bunkmate from the overnight camp you attended the summer after first grade.

A few days ago we entertained this idea: why not lever our unintentially lengthy guest list (no, seriously, we want y’all there) and request that our friends/strangers/random attendees pool their money and pay for our first year of rent? See, even if we do receive these lovely household items, we’ll have nowhere to store them. That’s because we don’t own an apartment. And that’s because we can’t find a single one-bedroom domicile in Baltimore-D.C. suburbia for less than…well, what we consider an atrocious amount of money.

Call it a rude awakening, but we’ve spent the past weekish in irritable states. We blame the housing market.

And while I’m recounting this predicament to my trusty cubicle-mate, Dan, he presents the most brilliant idea yet:

“Well, they make nice tents. That’ll last you at least a year.”

Maybe we’ll haul a pop-up residence to an island flight site. The weather’s certainly nicer.

Hello, kids, and welcome back to sunny Grantham. The temperature is 66 degrees, believe it or not, and I just drove five hours from home with the windows down. Guess I won’t need those 983741 sweaters I packed after all.

Welp, back to work. I don’t know about your breaks, but mine was a whirlwind of (positive) busy-ness, and it’s possible that I’m slightly more exhausted now than before I left. Funny, though, I don’t mind it so much. It’s liberating to be a mere semester away from graduation. (And the spring-ish weather certainly helps.)

On the agenda for this J-term:
1) choreograph Godspell ! (Come see the show!)
2) watch season 3 of “The Office” (I’d like to acknowledge my brother Tommy for giving a most excellent Christmas present)
3) take a road trip to the Jersey shore (ya know, I’ve only set foot in New Jersey once)
4) watch movies
5) bake food

Hm, maybe we should grill out tonight…? Actually, that’s a splendid idea.

6) grocery store trip after work