Cursed!

See? The door really is broken. And the fuzzy green blob continues to grow.

Argh. I am coming down with a cold, and it seems like nothing is working out easily. We still haven't found someone to sublet our heap, no one wants to adopt foster kitty Oliver, our phone line went wonky for a day, I have to pack, and my balcony door broke. The good news is that it was the exterior door, made even better because the door IS IN PIECES. I came home from Hot Fuzz to hear the door banging in the breeze, and looked out to see the frame hanging off it at some acute angle. Oh, and the best part? The glass for the window was completely gone, and peering over balcony showed me that it was three stories down, on the ground, in a multitude of shards.
My roommate came out, saw that the glass was missing, and asked if it was ok. No. No, it wasn't.
The good news is that the landlord is going to fix it soon. And he didn't seem that angry, although a little unconvinced that the wind had caused it. Well, it's his own damn fault for not installing the latch better, because that stupid door has always had problems. Plus, he bears an uncanny resemblance to Buffalo Bill from The Silence of the Lambs.

I hate this time of year, anyway, because everyone is packing up and shipping out for the summer. Sure, the weather is nicer but it gets so melancholic. I feel even worse this year because I'm missing that end of the year bliss you get when you've finished your final exam. That's right, I want to be writing exams. Please send help. At least more of my friends are beginning to stay in Montreal. I'm sure that number will only go up as the years go on, and I'll probably be staying next year myself to take some classes and maybe work a little. It's a little weird seeing all your friends slowly turn into adults, and realizing how close we all are to that time when all those adult actions are taken. Those years when it seems half your friends are getting married, getting real jobs, moving into houses and making payments on cars. And then what? Houses, sometime kids, divorces and bankruptcies. I don't want to be a child any more, but I'm not sure I'm ready to be an adult.

Well, the sweater calls to me.