Sitting here matching socks and realizing how utterly friendless I am
here in Georgia. (Interesting combination.) Of course, that's my own
fault, not immersing myself into my new-ish surroundings...Charles says
I'm still stuck up in Indiana and he wonders why I haven't made an
effort to hang out with his friends. Well to tell you the truth, I
don't want to BORROW his friends (something about that seems just
loser-ish to me)...and then there's the fact that they're not really my
type. Of course, ANY type is better than NO type, isn't it? Maybe I'll
call up Victoria one day...
How does Charles always get a
hold of my socks...I mean, I guess I'd understand a PAIR being stretched
out like crazy...but one of these is totally stretched out and the
other is just a little thing...
Arr. I hate matching socks. Isn't my mom supposed to do this for me?
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