from the blog of FriNightLights recapper
drunkenbee: December 2006:
So I've got my shower caddy, my Nalgene, a totally broken-out face, I've got my clothes thrown in a twenty-gallon plastic tub and I'm moving into a room in a houseful of strangers in the Maryland/Virginia/DC area. Is this 1994? Please lord, tell me it isn't. I have a hell of a lot of plaid flannel to answer for.
So to recap, since I haven't been all that forthcoming around here lately: I was awarded a fellowship that requires residence in D.C. So I'm moving to D.C. And I seriously went and bought a shower caddy. I have no idea what kind of weirdos I'm living with. I heard one of them, like, works on the Hill. I don't even know what that means. I also seriously bought a Nalgene bottle. I was in The Container Store (where I live, now that we are home owners) and I saw one, and I thought, this is what the college girls have, isn't it? I don't know where the wires got crossed, because, in fact, I will not be spending the next six months skimming the course catlog for guts, no, I have a doctoral research fellowship. So I don't know where the Nalgene thing came from. Nalgene. Nalgenenalgenenalgene.
I've been crying non-stop for two weeks because I am a scaredy-cat homebody, and the thought of waking up on the first Saturday in January, and not knowing where to go or what to do or where to eat, or be able to leave my room without having to make small talk with a stranger is horrible and paralyzing. I'm really, truly, and seriously sad. oh.
Since I started this site almost three years ago to sort of keep time while I lived in Louisiana with Ed, far away from our home and friends, I can't but hope that I'll find myself doing a bit more writing here again, finding myself again far away from my home. Have lovely holidays, and check back in the New Year to witness my emotional breakdown! If that's your sort of thing (and you know it is, internet people).

drunkenbee: January 2007: Other things that my new roommates do and which I won't ever make fun of? Well, they receive overwrought gifts from friends, things like, say, a homemade cookbook (really, nice!) with the inscription: Dear [Person I Am Not Making Fun Of]: Giving you a cookbook is like giving Matisse a paintbrush.' They make tea from bulk peppermint leaves and bee pollen, they eat lots of brown rice, they look you up and down when you wear your skinny jeans (as if they did not get the memo!), they wear lots of woven indigenous fabrics.