This summer's theme
The summer after graduation was affectionately titled "Sorry About Last Night," due to many many drunken mishaps among my friends, mainly Melissa and I (who incidentally came up with the summer's title). Last summer was titled "Thanks For Letting me Crash on Your Floor," because, between frequent Cinci visits, numerous parties, and six weeks of tour, I found myself saying that quite often. The titling of the summer doesn't officially come about until the end of summer, but I have a feeling this summer will be something like "So Last Night on Nick @ Nite..." or "Hey Becca, Come Look at the Kittens." Basically what I'm trying to say is this summer is boring so far.
I have been doing a lot of reading, however. Right now I'm reading both You Can't Go Home Again, by Thomas Wolfe (no, not Tom Wolfe...), and I'm re-reading The Hotel New Hampshire, by John Irving. I think I'll have The Hotel New Hampshire done tomorrow, so I'll let you know what I pick up next. Lately, I've been enjoying reading two books at once, a habit I picked up from my uncle.
That last sentence got a lyric of Gerritt's stuck in my head, which is true of my life right now. "Lately I have been receiving lots of mail addressed to people who are not me." We have received letters addressed to at least ten different people in the two months that we've lived here. It's ridiculous. There is no way that ten people have lived here, all of which have yet to inform the post ofice that they've left. If Becca finds the letters, she writes "does not live here" on the envelopes and puts them back in the mailbox. If I find them, I open them.
I have been doing a lot of reading, however. Right now I'm reading both You Can't Go Home Again, by Thomas Wolfe (no, not Tom Wolfe...), and I'm re-reading The Hotel New Hampshire, by John Irving. I think I'll have The Hotel New Hampshire done tomorrow, so I'll let you know what I pick up next. Lately, I've been enjoying reading two books at once, a habit I picked up from my uncle.
That last sentence got a lyric of Gerritt's stuck in my head, which is true of my life right now. "Lately I have been receiving lots of mail addressed to people who are not me." We have received letters addressed to at least ten different people in the two months that we've lived here. It's ridiculous. There is no way that ten people have lived here, all of which have yet to inform the post ofice that they've left. If Becca finds the letters, she writes "does not live here" on the envelopes and puts them back in the mailbox. If I find them, I open them.