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There’s something about Sunday night
that really makes you want to kill yourself
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Sunday, March 11, 2007


It's here, it's here, it's here!

For this weekend, anyway. Hannah and I biked to the Bongo Room for breakfast, and browsed a used record store. She got a Tori Amos album I had never heard of, so I loaded it onto my computer, and now I'm listening to it.

I'm ready for this season. It's windows flung open to a slight chill, green buds on the trees, candles flickering in a dark, clean apartment, Tori Amos singing on the stereo. Salads for dinner, and white wine. It's a season I like to spend alone. This evening Tim is with old friends, playing music at a bar, and I'm revelling in having the apartment to myself. The cats are still asleep in the window sill. It's not too chilly for them, though I'll need to close the windows soon.

I'll go to bed, a new crossword puzzle in my lap, and I'll fall asleep in the quiet dark, and tomorrow the spell will be ruined, for it will be schoolwork and stress, papers to write and the wait for internship offers. But for now it's perfectly still, perfectly cool, and perfectly spring.

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