(no subject)
Today I turned 23, took a rather dreadful Electrical Networks midterm, and wrote my name and phone number on our dinner receipt at Cicero's, under the message, "Hell is other people". (Our waiter had told us earlier about his horrible decision, several years ago, to read Sartre's entire body of work during a Cincinnati winter). Additionally, said waiter misread my birthyear when he carded me, and at the end of the meal, he brought me a free drink and piece of cake with "Happy Birthday! 21!" written around the edge of the plate in caramel sauce. I'd say it's been a good day.