Read This as You're Never Sleeping.

You say you're bound for New York
A promise that leaves me breathless
But I don't even know you.

Is it something in the lights?
Is it something in the smog
That keeps the artists flooding in

To “get by” in dank apartments
With smudges on their walls
And coffee rings on their tables?

Dear New York,

I know that we have yet to meet,
So please forgive me when I say,
I've got a bone to pick with you.

‘Cause your skyline could be better
And I'm sure it's not your weather

That beckons to the painters
And whisks away the actors
And promises the writers something more

It’s not that I don’t trust you,
It’s just that I don’t get you,
And why you tend to steal the ones I love

So if you really are a magic place
My only wish is this:
Oh New York, don’t break them.

P.S. I’ll see you soon.

Shear Spontaneity

The thing most people probably don't realize about a community bathroom is that it's a great place to socialize. Seriously. I've had some of the best conversations when I've just finished brushing my teeth, and the bathroom at my house has even seen a few dance parties in its day. (But you didn't hear that from me.)

On Friday, Carly decided she wanted to cut her hair. Andrea walks by the bright pink bathroom, and seeing Carly with scissors, decides to offer some moral support. A few minutes later, I come in to recycle my Fuze bottle and, seeing the pair and their scissors, decide to offer some unsolicited advice: a disposable razor hands down beats scissors when it comes to cutting hair.
(Credit for this discovery goes to Sarah Steadland).

Andrea was thrilled.



Carly proceeded to give herself some impeccable bangs and feathered layers in the front.



"I want my hair angled more."



We let Carly do the angling.



The counter was a big, hairy mess.



(Yes we cleaned it up).

I can't wait to live in a house where I have my own bathroom -- I can't remember the last time I had time to do homework.