I spend an inordinate amount of every day in or around my bed, can comfortably go a week without speaking to another person, am terrible with calendars, clocks, and staying in touch, and generally don't think you don't want to hear what I have to say.
Update (7/07): What I thought were the signs of a bedbug infestation turns out to be a horrible, pus-oozing, nauseatingly itchy, super contagious rash. I've never been so happy.
Update (9/07): Rash was poison ivy. Nick has bedbugs, not us. I just realized I had left a typo in this box for probably a year (inDordinate? inDordinate? That my friends didn't mock me openly about this spells doom for the Metaverse.
Update (4/08):Aerogarden! Springtime!
