Misc.

I've discovered that the optimal way of motating around a large warehouse is in a rolly computer chair. It's exciting to propel myself backwards at great speeds, and I can take corners by grabbing onto the shelving. It's great fun now, but I'm worried that someday I'll hit a floor-crack just right and end up under a bariatric commode.

My through-the-wall neighbors are cooking something that actually smells delicious. They must have broken out their new Orifices Are Not Ingredients cookbook by Rachael Ray.

Over the last week and a half I've had 3 over night visitors. (Not romantically, they all slept on an inflatable bed in my livitchen.) And I've noticed that I get a little antsy when I can't come home and strip down to my boxer shorts. I may not be able to ever have a roommate again. And soon I may not be able to stand having friends over. Perhaps I'd better befriend a group of semi-nudists. Then again, I'm not sure I'd want to sit around with other people and have underwear leisure time.