It's amazing!

What an able mind will find to do in lieu of homework/studying. There's always sleeping... but I personally spent 20 minutes scrolling through the "The Way I see it..." quotes on Starbucks.com. I was a little inspired, although I recognize the whole thing seems to be an ad for XM radio.

This was a pretty good weekend in retrospect and more balanced than most for awhile. I had some fun, got a solid amount of work done and got a lot of sleep. Which didn't matter after last night because that stupid little bitch from upstairs woke me up again.

This brings me to a combined open letter to people I see everyday and the little bitch who lives upstairs.

Dear Friends, Acquaintances and the Little Bitch who Lives Upstairs,
I'm glad some of you have found the blog. Please understand I wasn't keeping it a secret on purpose, rather it seemed just too much to tell people about a blog I keep that is really only about me. In Erin's words, "I love the blog, but if I didn't already know you, I'd hate it." So maybe I wanted you to already know me before subjecting you to my dream analysis and huffy feelings.
I also didn't talk about it for fear I don't really have enough to talk about and I'd be in "um, yeah, you said that on your blog" territory which is only one step above "um, yeah, you told me that story already" in terms of places I don't want to be.
In any case, welcome, I'll try to keep a good mix between completely self-indulgent and things people might want to read about. I would also remind you, there is no obligation to keep reading if it gets boring. Really, no hard feelings.

Thanks, though.

Sarah

PS. Listen you stupid little bitch... you know I sleep on the other side of that window, I've told you. You are so stupid and I hate you and I am beyond wishing you would move out and into wishing you death and bodily harm. You have a stupid accent, you are dumb dumb dumb and I hate hate hate you. Stop it. You are going to force me out of this apartment, which I otherwise really like due to reaching toxicity of hatred for you. This afternoon I closed the storm window on my finger, the nail is probably going to fall off. I blame you. I also blame you for my constant state of nausea, my inability to dye my hair to match its natural color, the fact that I had to cancel my Sunday-only NY Times subscription because I don't read it and that Whole Foods Madison once again not carrying the chicken taquitos. In short, you are the reason for everything bad I can think of right now. If I should start to repeat stories, from real life or the blog and be called on it-- that would be your fault, too. I hate. Hate. Hate. You.