I realized this morning, while digging my gym bag out from under a pile of clothes I've used for layering in the cold, that The Boy I Currently Like left his sweatshirt here the other night.
Every time I walk by the chair, or whenever I think about it, really, I smell it. Because it is full of his stinky boy smell, which I totally adore.
It's so silly and it is so fucking lame, but God help me, I don't fucking care. I'd be wearing that fucking thing if it wasn't so warm in here. At least I'm not going to sleep with it, right? I mean, I could be far more lame. Right? RIGHT?
Meh. What are you gonna do?