You're at home aren't you? I'm still in my office, pretending to work. Who really needs to pretend after 5pm anyway? Well, it's 6:22 right now. I have this suspicion that if I stay here late, even if it's just to write lame throw-away articles for E2, it makes me look like a hard worker.

That's my job in a nutshell.

Don't you fall into the same trap. You may be looking for a job right now, taking time out of your busy schedule reading and writing for your classes, preparing for the inevitable plunge into capitalist monotony. I hope you don't just take any offer that's given to you. I hope you choose wisely, carefully, because if you don't, it may turn out to be the one you hate, but never got around the motivation to find something better. And then you wake up one day wondering where the years have gone.

So you have to remind me of what you think are my faults. It's humbling really, but not very pleasant. I'm sorry if I was doing the same to you. These things just slip out sometimes.

It just comes down to subjectivity doesn't it? What you think hurts you, hurts you. What I think hurts me, hurts me. Can it really be that simple? I'm tired of my subjective universe - please may I try another?

OK, it's time I started home, like you said. Alone to my apartment. You know my real home is beside you, no matter how many times I forget to say that.

Talk to you there. I'm looking forward to a simple meal and curling up with a book - Life, the Universe and Everything. I'm at the part where he's dealing with the guy he's always accidentally killing. Remember?