Hmm. In the past 3 hours, I have seen both Reza and Yorgos in their underwear. Both of them had a wonderful laugh while I tried not to blush and look stupid. I've really got to work on my fake laugh.

But what was Adithi doing?, you might enquire, O inquisitive reader.

Well!

On the first occasion, I was carrying a 500 page classic novel downstairs with my nalgene bottle, wearing a huge hooded sweatshirt, looking tired and droopy. The second time, I was sprawled all over the couch, eating cereal out of the box, watching some tv show that I won't name because it embarrasses me too much. I know Yorgo thinks I'm bizarre (this is the optimistic version of "weird"), but now he thinks I'm dull and pathetic too, I'm sure. It's impossible to explain that 'you're lonely and don't have a community of friends because you just relocated and you suck at your job etc etc so you have to drown your sorrows in bad tv' to a guy who walks around the house half-undressed, with a 70s style poster in his room that says "Fly guy," clearly screaming: "I am male! I am macho! I am a guy who likes to get it on with sexy babes in bikinis!"

I miss college. I miss being able to watch hours of awful tv without it seeming like a pitiful way to pass an evening. I miss the fact that I didn't care whether or not I was caught by some strange guy at 11pm, with cereal stuck on my face. But Reza and Yorgo are 28 and they're men, not just guys. I feel like a complete and utter loser, like nothing I can do is right because I don't have the right personality to occupy this house. I didn't think that I'd have to apologize for being myself after a certain point in life. But when Yorgo came in for his final glass of milk and caught me in the same exact position, I felt like some silent judgment was being issued. 

At least the cat likes me.