06.12.02 :: 9:35 pm

Right now, here with my cigs and cocktail, my prediction for roughly week 3 of Alone Time is me sniffing his socks and crying to some sad bastard music.

But, in reality, I will probably be immersed in the new-found girly-time and rollicking-good-fun. That, and I hope to be sporting some kind of a summer glow.

OK, in the Weird Freakout department, about half an hour ago, as I sat here just messing with Photoshop and listening to The Wedding Present, I distinctly felt a rush of air against my back, as if someone had run past me.

The fan's not on, the window's cracked only a little.

So, my guess is our ghost roommate is up and at it again. Maybe he's hungry. I'll leave some cookies out for him.

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