Thought Catalog


He’s probably in a fight with his significant other, sending out text messages the size of novellas, filled with several hundreds of frowny faces, hearts, and all the other traditional fixins of humiliating emotional text messaging.

She insists on making the bed even though I’m going to collapse onto it as soon as she’s finished. “Making the bed is an act of love,” she says, like she pulled that phrase out of some Grandma textbook that only Grandmas read. I know nothing about making the bed, nothing about love.

As much as I do like showing you around my city you must keep in mind that even though you might be on vacation, I am not. Don’t be too bummed when I leave you alone to go to work or class or even an engagement that I can’t bring you to.