...or at least I should probably be acting more like one. Ha--acting. As of Monday, I am 21 years old. My birthday was, to put it simply, awesome. I went shopping, had some amazing sushi with my loved ones from college and beyond, and had some delicious drinks. I also met up with some Whitman graduates totally by chance (hey Chris Smith!). By magic, the gentlemen with me procured cheesecake when I demanded it. Admittedly, I think they just found a place across the street from the bar we were at, but as I was drunk dialing my sister at the time (sorry, Erin) I thought we teleported. The waiters there were super nice, and gave me a candle on my cake and everything. My family sent me lovely cards and beautiful gifts, and I love all of them. It was a fantastic day.
I'm down in Washington, D.C. now, and reunited with the rest of my beautiful troupe. We're staying in Abby's house, which is absolutely beautiful and on the Potomac. Literally. I've been watching baby ospreys all day. They are lovely. Really, the only fly in my ointment is that I already miss Nathan terribly. We're unfortunately very used to this whole "leaving" thing, but it still hurts.
To Nathan: I love you.
To everyone else: I love you, too. Just, you know, not like THAT.
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