Feeling: bouncy
Listening to: dryer noise
Reading/Watching: Gilmore Girls

Okay, to save myself the redundancy, curious parties may read the explanation of my past two entries on LiveJournal.

Nimsay's parents are cute and sent her flowers for Valentine's Day. The flower shop messed up, and now we have two on our countertop, one about four feet tall and the other a mere three. They are huge and intimidatingly gorgeous, with roses and lilies and lilac and foxgloves and carnations and gladiolas exploding everywhere, even though the vases are beginning to mildew and now the entire apartment smells like pee. I've begun extracting roses as they wilt, and hanging them upside down to dry in my room. It's starting to look like a butcher shop for flora in there.

It's funny, because I had to tell my parents to bring me flowers when I did my sophomore recital: "I am singing opera for an hour in a red dress in front of everyone and their dog. That merits some carnations or something." They're just not the romantic types.

But perhaps I should be grateful for never having had a dorm room full of roses and eau de pee. Those rooms were very very tiny, and not well-ventilated.

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