My window just broke. The springs snapped because I have cheap windows. I should get paid for these windows. They are obviously some off brand shit. I don’t even know brands of windows but I’m sure these are from Ned’s Discount Window Warehouse and Buffalo Wings. Actually, I’m surprised I even have windows in this shit shack. I’m surprised my landlord didn’t just sledgehammer a hole and put a trash bag over it ta daaaa! Curtains! So tomorrow I will call the super who will call the landlord who will call the handyman who will come by and say yes it’s broken and he’ll call the window dude who will order the parts, but they won’t come for a week, just sit tight, ok? But here’s the thing: the window is open and won’t stay closed. It is going to be cold. I’m busting out the sleeping bag perhaps. I will be camping in my own home. Under the stars, at one with nature, etc. I will read some Thoreau. Then I will plot some deaths. I’m pretty sure Thoreau did that. He wrote about it in his book, Massacre at Walden Pond: Ruminations on Transcendentalism. This, of course, wasn’t nearly as good as Aesthetic Papers and the Goblet of Fire. But whatever. I’m not gonna be a literary snob. No one likes a snob.

And on a separate note: I love Excel.

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