Sometimes I feel claustrophobic in this place, especially when I compare our situation to other people. I see houses and mansions, and I think, "Why don't I have that? What is wrong with me that I don't do what is necessary to make enough money to acquire the proverbial American Dream?"
Justin broke the mirror in the closet today. I heard the crash from the bathroom, less than ten feet away. I got to him in three seconds, and rescued him before he could hurt himself.
Five minutes ago, Harmony was playing with the vacuum cleaner cord. She looped it around her neck, and since I was within two feet from her, something like
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mike_Tyson#Personal_life
didn't happen.
She's currently underneath my desk, undoing the Velcro on my sandals, and Justin is in the other room on his computer. I can hear everything they do, and as long as I don't leave my apartment, I feel like the richest person in the world.
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