I’ve lived alone awhile so being back in a communal living situation is interesting. I love being able to sleep through the night knowing that my chances of getting attacked by werewolf or serial killer are reduced by each additional body in the house (10% reduction for each adult, 5% for children, 25% for each adult sleeping on couch near door or window). But, there is something about living with other people that makes me think I don’t have to do dishes. The beauty of living with other people is that things get done even if you don’t know who did them. Some things bad, like drinking the last Coke Zero and other things good, like replacing the toilet paper. Of course in most living arrangements that involve more than one person these everyday tasks will inevitably rake on someone’s nerves until they have to leave a passive aggressive note or have a blow up right in the middle of a perfectly entertaining marathon TV sesh of “The First 48.” I don’t plan on sticking anywhere too long to deal with that or dishes for the matter. I’m a rolling stone.

In other news, I visited my ol pal Kendra* today in the posh suburbs of West Bloomfield. She showed me how she taught her baby "baby sign language" - it's not for hearing problems, it's just so the little bugger can ask for more food without having to learn adult english. Funny, a little creepy, and useful. A triple hit in my book.

*Kendra and baby E are cute as cupie dolls!