I sit here, in my nice, comfortable dorm room with four walls and a roof and a bed and a closet and an internet connection, stressed out about the problem sets I have to finish this week.

Meanwhile, the fiery hellstorm of the apocalypse is taking place basically outside my house’s front door.  I just feel so removed from it — which I suppose is good, because I can’t do anything, but still.  I’m looking forward to going home for Thanksgiving.  I want my house–and everyone else’s houses–to be there, too.

So Nature–listen up.  I thought you didn’t betray the heart that loves you (that’s Wordsworth, folks).

Oh wait.  Maybe she doesn’t feel loved.  Though I can’t imagine why.

(And that’s tongue-in-cheek, folks.)