Guilty Pleasures

In the words of Miley Cyrus....

The last time I freaked out
I just kept lookin down
I st-st-stuttered when you asked me what I'm thinkin 'bout
Felt like I couldn't breathe
You asked what's wrong with me
My best friend Leslie said "Oh she's just bein Miley"
The next time we hang out
I will redeem myself
My heart can't rest til then
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
I, I can't wait to see you again.

A Romantic Dinner for Two Roommates

Tilapia and scallops pan-seared in butter, lemon, and olive oil. Sweet potato hash-- shallots, green peppers, sausage, white wine to taste. Sauvignon Blanc.
Cheers.

The Smoke Has Finally Cleared

Or the dust has settled... or the fire has been put out.
All the above literally apply. After one long night of burning, a few days of sitting and wallowing, a week and a half of airing out, painting, and carpeting, and twelve or so hours of cleaning, my apartment almost feels like home again. And if I have to move one more time (that will make eight times in the past six months) I will kill someone. Or maybe start a fire. Sorry, too soon.