A Night In

A steady trickle of rain has just made itself heard against the windows, complementing the regular shuffle of the clothes dryer.

I stumble on a quiz that tells you who your ideal Disney prince is. I’ve taken it before (and didn’t like the result – Prince Philip, really? Personality of an apple) but I make one of my roommates, who’s sitting on the floor doing something else, take it. The quiz takes into account important personality traits, like which 90s pop band you prefer and which 2000s celebrity couple you wish had had a fairy tale ending.

It’s almost 10PM and, oh yeah, I need to blog. What am I going to write about?

So I ask my roommate, “What should I blog about tonight?” Without looking up from her task, she answers,

“Poop.”

Five minutes later, our other roommate walks in and immediately says,

“It smells weird in here. What did you guys cook?”

“Broccoli and -”

“Oh, that’s it,” she says, but I continue with my best Yorkshire accent, courtesy of multiple viewings of BBC’s North and South, “Greaht Noorthern Beahns.”

Adulthood.

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