I sit at the computer a lot, twirling my long brown hair while I read fic and listen to the B side of Abbey Road. I spend most of my time on the computer in my dorm room, but I can go anywhere. I’ve got a laptop.

Not quite anywhere. The laptop once was the top of the line. Now it’s dead in five minutes without an electrical socket.

I can go anywhere, provided provided anywhere has an electrical plug and a Kleenex box.

It’s not my fault I inherited a dysfunctional nose from my mom, but I’ve put more thought into Kleenex box selection than most people. A nice brown one to match the desk.

My desk’s a bit of a wasteland. The Kleenex box probably takes the cake for excitement. Water glass. Box of crackers. School books. No stuffed animals or mementos. No lava lamps. Good thing. I’d probably knock it over. With my shit luck, it’d probably set my homework on fire.

Homework. I should probably be doing that. I’m not, and I blame Wil Wheaton. He introduced me to this place.

Now I’m stuck, no matter where I am.