So we will share this road we walk, and mind our mouths and beware our talk.

Jon and Megan got back from their honeymoon last night, and they're coming over later this afternoon. The two of them being here never used to be that momentous an occasion, but apparently once people get married they're "company" and we have to clean the house for them. It's that way with you and Jesse too, Beth. I don't mind cleaning or anything, but I don't like the shift from 'normal inhabitants' to 'formal company'. Not so much has really changed, has it? Anyway, that's what I've been doing today. I was supposed to spend the day working on more college applications, because the early-action deadline is in three days. But I don't think I'm really going to make that one. I spent the morning dusting the house while Mom and Dad were gone. Now they're back and Dad's vacuuming and Mom is spraying everything with Fabreeze. It's a little offensive. I can smell it all the way up here.

I had a strange night. You know those mornings when you wake up knowing every single dream you had, and you think, Wow, I'll have to tell someone about those. Except by the time you actually open your eyes all the way, the dreams are gone. I can only remember one snippet from my dreams last night, and for some reason I was drawing smiley-faces all over my arms. Aside from that, my other dreams must have been doozies, because I woke up all sweaty.

Actually, it's just been a strange week. No, scratch that. A strange semester. People-wise, probably my strangest yet. I get kind of queasy when I think about it all, though, so I won't really go into all of that. I guess right now I'm mostly frustrated with myself. For a long time I was blaming the other parties for all the drama, but these things take two. I saw possible-problems a mile away and didn't do anything to change the path we were headed on. Now I just kind of feel like I'm messing everybody up, and that was really the last thing I wanted to do. Ugh.

Anyway... I also finished Catcher in the Rye just now, and whenever I finish a book that I love I get very depressed. I'm always tempted to stop reading just before the last 2 or 3 pages, because then I won't have to deal with thinking about the book as a whole. If I love a book too much, I don't want to close the cover knowing that it's the last time. Especially if it's a narrative - after being in somebody's head for 300 pages, you don't want to say goodbye. It sounds weird, I know, but it's just what I think about after finishing a book. I always want to turn right back to the first page and read it again, and pretend that I never finished it in the first place. Then I wouldn't have to think about it ending until I got closer to it - then I'd start it all over again. I suppose that's my trouble; trying to trick myself into thinking I don't know something, I mean.

Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry?