Give Me Your Hands if We be Friends

My roomie moved out last week. And I have to say, I'm very bummed about it. I mean, good for her that she's making enough money to afford a place of her own and good for me that she only moved across the street. But, still...

What about those Saturday mornings when she'd be so excited that I had made a pot of tea?

What about the geekazoid West Wing marathons? Or the Peter Wimsey marathons, complete with gin and tonics?

It's very lonely to get home from rehearsal after 11pm and not have her watching South Park. Only the cat awaiting me in a pitch black apartment.

I was ridiculously touched one night this week when she had stopped by to pick up her mail and left the light on for me.

I may be getting a new roommate, but it won't be the same.

And then a part of me says, "Suck it up, Katherine. She's across the damn street!"

Thanks, Robyn.