I want more memories

Today marks one week left in DC with my roommate. She starts her move to Atlanta early next Friday morning, so we have dates planned. We'll make eggplant pizza , have dinner in the city , watch West Wing on the couch together, and then probably cry a lot. I'm not one to admit that I'm an emotional mess every once in a while, but this is certainly one of the times I don't mind. The strangest part about all of this is that she'll never again live with her girlfriends. I could potentially do the roommate thing my second year in graduate school or even afterward, but she's moving in with Jim. So she is officially committing to watching lots of football on Sunday and accepting the fact that she will never again have a live-in manicurist. So our last weekend in DC will be spent smuggling a bottle of wine around the monuments, packing and watching bad romantic comedies, and eating eggplant pizza. Oh eggplant, I owe Nicole my love of that odd fruit. And a whole lot else.