And although I didn't actually get a thing of any true merit accomplished last night, I regardless had what I must consider a rather fun evening. It was Kincaid's birthday, and out of some instinct I bought him one of those big long rolls of lollipops (the orange and white swirly ones) because I figured, well, everyone likes candy, and even if my budget was limited it seemed like a good way to make him feel slightly cheered (being crabby at the best of times). And whaddya know, but it worked? I was really pleased with how everyone got along last night. Pixiegirl was in a more radiant mood than normal, and spent her evening working on some artwork for her newly restored website (she's had it for some time, but has not, conversely, had any web space... so now Geocities is hosting it) with the assistance of Kincaid's scanner and his copy of PhotoShop. And although it was a new version to her, she managed to turn the gradient and burn tools into some astonishingly beautiful colours for what was previously a black-and-white line drawing. Broken came by around nine o'clock, and even Charlotte was supposed to drop by such as to give me her keys (once again I am ferret-sitting this weekend, because Charlotte is graduating on Friday), but she had to go to work to finish some tedious late night office work for her boss. So we all hung out downstairs in the kitchen, and in Kincaid's room (his room is the downstairs one now, for reasons I shall not get into at this point), and in the living room, talking and laughing and actually being friends and stuff. And the thing is, I can't help but wonder how much of our merriment was in some way facilitated (if not a stronger verb) by the fact that early that morning, Ben had decided to go to Toronto. And it's not his fault, exactly, that he affects our dynamic. He's still the "new guy," and the odd man out in our friendly equation, even if we do, in our various ways, like him. He up and left for an unspecified duration of time, working out to "Oh, I don't know... maybe a week, maybe two weeks... maybe more if I can't get a ride back," which is entirely his prerogative so long as he returns in sufficient time to pay his rent, which shall be due, sharp, on July first. And I certainly have faith that he isn't foolish enough to wait that long to meet his responsibilities, but this doesn't mean I'm inclined to be charitable if he doesn't. So, anyway, let's hope it doesn't come up. I must go to work now.

And here I am, feeling lonely now. I can't imagine how unpleasantly alone I'll be feeling in three or four months. Is everyone I love doomed to move away from me? Huh? Someone -- tell me.

Wah.

Brought to you by Jolt Cola, with
the buzzing and mild irritation of
caffeine induced paranoia.

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