Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe.
I just got back from a wind ensemble concert featuring Nick-From-Next-Door and The Insurrectionist; I got there late, of course, and couldn't see The D.J, who I knew would be there somewhere.
I spotted The Mustacheless Man and his parents, and it was only during the intermission that I found out that The Mustacheless Man's mother was actually The D.J in a brightly-colored woman's hat; his father was The D.J's friend from out of town.
So after the intermission I sat with the aforementioned Mustacheless Man and his roomate, Miguel Sanchez, who asked for his pretzel-filled backpack back from our room (it's been here for about a month and a half at this point). I ducked out early, for some reason, and came back here.
That appears to be my day.
