I shall not do my roommates' dishes anymore. I will stick to this, even if I begin to twitch and cry and they find me rocking myself on the kitchen floor when they come home.
I shall not plan trips to Le Victoir that span longer than 72 hours.
I shall write to the people whom I love in this world, and, when I have time, to the people I like and admire. (Luckily, the two categories overlap quite a bit.)
I shall cook with zeal, not only because I can't afford ready-made meals, but because food is fun.
I shall divorce myself from Starbucks. And soon.
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