ughguhugh I want someone to come over and drink ginger beer and finish the leftovers (when I first typed that I wrote laftovers, anyway) from my parents dinner party thing. There is cheese, falafel and olives if you’re a bit fancy. And then we can dance and lie on the floor (because it got washed for the dinner party, score) and I can pretend I’m doing valuable things with my holiday time instead of stalking artists/designers/writers/fabulous people on the internet and getting depressed over my lack of talent/motivation.