Get me some heather, won't you, my unloved husband?

I'm beginning to feel like all of September is one big Romeo and Juliet-esque love tragedy between freedom and I. One of these days both of us are just going to up and die without ever enjoying a healthy relationship...but then again, I often wonder how R & J would have endured as a couple...that would make an interesting story.

We broke the record for rainfall in Chicago today, and my mom thusly decided it was a perfect morning to watch Wuthering Heights. The more I hear it shrieked, the more I love the name Heathcliff. Judas Taylor, Heathcliff James (has to be the middle child if he's going to brood), and Samuel Cash. And their little sister Lilly Anne. Four is actually kind of a big family...who knows. Maybe someone will be able to talk me out of Judas by then. Unlikely.

On the off chance you wonder what I did with the rest of my Sunday, I made some moon-over-miami egg and toast things for the family for breakfast and we watched Hocus Pocus after the first feature, feeling rather autumny. Now they're watching Ghostbusters downstairs, which I'm regrettably missing. But she's also making a pie and I'm going to make some kickass mac and cheese for dinner. Despite the verbal tiffs, things aren't bad on the food and film front, which happens to keep me at an even-keeled contentment.

I'm beginning to think I am grossly underprepared for college. Not a settling thought, actually. I guess we'll jump from that bridge when we come to it.