Some days, most of them are the winter days, I find my self tied up to the crib. There's nothing I wanna do except being lazy in my room, or living room, or bubble bathing or cook my self a decent dinner. Of course, I can easily hop to the Irish pub next door who frequently features nice live music, or walk down the avenue to our favorite saint bar with a kick-ass playlist. And I can always knock on R's doors and hang-out with the roomies while strumming guitar and pat the cat. And there's an option of enjoying indie flix two-blocks away and be happy that I manage to get very cultural with my choice of movie. Or anything else because I happen to stay at the hippest area of the great empire. Or do the laundry as I'm in the state of lacking clean undies to wear.
But despite of those, I curl in the corner of my couch, flicking through Spotify playlist and think about you a little too much. I grab my cells, typed 'I miss you' and never get the courage to press the green Send button.
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