She's Not There

Ha, NESCAC reference.

If Landlady Chang wanted to, she could probably sublet my room for the month and I would not notice. Perhaps she already has. How else could I explain the mess in my room?

(I stole the picture from Nicole because my camera is traveling to the Holy Land tomorrow. Without me. It needed some time away to explore roots or something. But it's OK, because I was with Nicole when this picture was taken and took an identical one with my photography apparatus. Have I mentioned that I went to Maine? Land of lighthouses and whoopie pies, lobster-shaped everything, poutine, coldness, and "the prettiest village in Maine" that turned out to be rather average looking, and restaurants of every kind serving Mexican food.)

I keep stalling. Telling you about my weekend rather than telling you a story. Truth is, between cementing travel plans and deciding schools and trying daily to avoid disappointing Whitecastle (and daily failing at that), I'm drawing a blank on stories. Instead, I keep looking forward to the bowl of pork broth noodles I'm going to have for dinner tomorrow night. There's going to be bok choy and fried shallots and slivers of long roasted pork in a warm, salty broth. All from scratch. I can't wait to go to work now, just to get one step closer to my noodles.