I’m getting super distracted from my essay because it sounds like one of my suitemates is having loud, expressive phonesex in the common room, just a thin wall away from my desk…

There’s a storm coming.
Is it really time to blast the TV? Is it really?

Actual conversation with my parents.

  • Mister: I meant that it wasn't *not* in our house.
  • Lady: Whichever house it's in.
  • Mister: Right.
  • Caitlin: Sounds like a first world problem right there, not knowing which house your stuff is in...

Kids downstairs are having a party, and they started blasting Elvis.

Apparently Chapter One was all echoes and gross.