Okay, so it’s been a few days in the Big House and it’s not like it's perfect, but I gotta tell you there’s nothing like having a bathroom all to yourself. I can put up with the morgue-like quiet, the chunky silverware, the ticking of clocks everywhere you turn, and all-the-cans-in-a-row (didja see Sleeping with the Enemy?) in the kitchen if it means having my own bathroom and only having to look at my own toothpaste spit in the sink.
Ryan’s the lucky one. She has the gardener’s cottage for her studio and it is super cool. When the House gets too housey, she can just say she’s got homework and can head over to her studio. I am going to have to take up painting.
I don’t have much time for this post. I am at work and writing it in between making lattes and cleaning out the leftover scones from yesterday. But I just have to say Abigail seems older than she really is sometimes, and then she will seem younger. Way younger. It creeps me out. I catch her looking at Lauren and Ryan and me and it’s like she’s one of us, like we’re a quartet of some kind, instead of three college students and an old lady. It’s weird. I can’t explain it. Not right now anyway. I gotta run. And hey! I have a date tonight!! His name’s Chance. No joke.