how I miss my roommates.
Back in the day, I lived in a house with terrible insulation with my two best friends. We drank quite a bit at this bar called Charlie’s Cellar, where Charlie (a girl) would bartend, and get us to put things lightly, intoxicated. this happened over a year. We’d walk back to the house, I’d kick trash cans, we’d yell at TCU kids. But some Sundays the hangover would spark creativity.
This is the tale of one such sunday:
I need another Sunday like that.