Appalachia Year

Voluptuous breakfast spread, made possible by Ana and Lauren.

They headed back to Columbus and I'm supposed to be writing the crap outta some papers, but the dreary, cold Novemberness outside has me slouching in my PJs listening to Andrew Bird and Beirut and bumming myself out on purpose.

I gotta cut this out. No more wistful or melancholy tunes. In fact, nothing with violin or accordion.

I'm gonna change into some pants with hardware and get my sadsack self to the library. I mean it.

(I don't mean it.)