One of life's great pleasures is sharing a meal with friends. There's something to be said about a bowl of salad or a plate of fish that reminds me that people have been sitting around and breaking bread since humanity got started. Eating is a great equalizer and, in a house like this one, it is essential to the maintaining of friendships.
When I was in college, I imagined that I would form friendships with a huge group of people, relationships I would effortlessly maintain for years to come. I imagined we would stay up late and complain over comically huge glasses of wine. I imagined we would have dance parties and laugh for hours. I imagined my younger years would be a lot more Sex and the City and a lot less me writing in a library for 9 hours straight and only seeing my three wonderful roommates if it was Plath-related.
I've been in Boston a few months now. I've survived my first real blizzard (I'm talking drifts up to my knees). I've made a slew of new friends and unexpected connections. I continue to fool everyone into thinking that I am young professional with her life together. Things are going great. Oh, and I moved into a house found on Craigslist with an alarming lack of investigation.