friscalating dusklight

My roommate has skipped town for a couple weeks in anticipation of her new job that starts on the 16th. This is the first time I’ve had the place (or even any living space in recent memory) to myself for an extended period of time and I’m kind of nervous that I’m going to let myself rot to death. Friends and family, this may be my cry for help.

1. The living room has become an extension of my bedroom, somehow. Pick up after yourself? That’s what people who don’t have the luxury of the space of a whole apartment do. Not this gal.
2. For some reason, my closet exploded. Clothes are splayed on the floor, coming out of drawers, tossed casually on my chair, thrown askew on my bed… It’s not pretty. It’s anti-pretty. It’s just plain ugly.
3. Forgetting the time of day and day of the week. I had no idea it was Tuesday yesterday, which meant no trivia night, which meant no socializing, which is clearly another cry for help. Instead, I watched two hours of So You Think You Can Dance and another hour looking up viewer feedback on Television Without Pity. (I’ve concluded that Ryan and Ellenore are my favorites, p.s.)
4. Ice cream straight out of the tub, milk straight out of the carton, peanut butter straight out of the jar.  Barbarians never had it so good.
5. UNDERWEAR CITY. POPULATION: ME.