Last night the big ice storm hit us, sadly we had to slip and slide to class. It was HORRIBLE. I have NEVER seen it this bad before. I finally made it home, called my boss, told him i didn’t want to drive anywhere, ordered pizza and was about to march up to my warm cozy bedroom. Then, one of my roommates “had to show me something.” They informed me of a note that they just found on my car. My poor beat up Cavalier is parked out side of our house on the street covered in an inch of ice. This is why I didn’t want to go to work in the first place!
It seems even the trash cans are neater on the Upper East Side. I found this stack of torn pages from a teenage diary placed delicately on top, no rooting required. This prep school girl partied a lot more than I ever did in high school, and her diary reads like the portrait of the popular girl who is silently screaming inside. Well… at least there’s enough angst in the pages to make her story tender. What made her tear it up years later?