my socks

have apparently begun to organize some sort of social revolution against me. I started getting suspicious after my favorite pair, these white and green gems with snowflakes (that I wear even if it is summer), mysteriously vanished from my drawer. Next, I discovered a huge hole on one of my fuzzy-slide-around-on-the-hardwood-floor socks. That was a bummer. Then, I did laundry a few days ago and had 6 rando socks left over without matches. Where are you going, socks? I'm sorry that I never do laundry and only wash you when I am in desperate need of you, but I will do better in the future. I promise. Maybe. Please come home.

In other irrelevant news,

- I have discovered that one of the most satisfying things ever is taking advantage of the moments when I have the house to myself, and during that time blasting Lady Gaga in the kitchen and throwing a me-only dance party.
-Today I was hanging up a rain jacket that had fallen on the floor of my closet and inside one of the pockets I found a seashell and some lemon tea! It was such a lovely surprise.
-Poptarts are officially better when put in the microwave, not toasted.
-Ellen & I tried to crash a reception at Charles Wright's reading on Monday and failed
-As of yesterday, I am a declared English major, although all it really feels like is that I've made it official on my transcript "Hey world, I have no future plans or career ambitions. Upon graduation, can somebody please pay me to sit in a coffee shop and read? I'm really good at that."
-My shampoo smells so good. I've gotten into the habit of showering right before bed so that I can fall asleep with my hair smelling so wonderful as it sprawls out on my pillow. I feel bad for boys because most of them have short hair which means that they can't smell how good it smells right after you wash your hair. This was maybe a weird thought. Am I a freak?