Fresca Goes Back To Massachusetts

Fresca left yesterday and I’m very sad. I miss her already, especially because without Fresca wandering around naked and singing “If you’re happy and you know it, kick your friend!”, I have developed a lot of antisocial tendencies.

I drink coffee and read every morning, annotating my Chinese history book with crossreferences to Roman customs and notes about life in Yantai. And I write, which I thought was a solitary activity, but actually improves by reading passages aloud. Without Fresca, if I should happen to swear at the complexity of a particular Chinese character, no one will ask if I’ve hurt myself walking into the glass table again.

I’m afraid this is exactly how those guys in Goodbye, Mr. Chips and To Serve Them All My Days started, and soon I’ll trade in my instant coffee for tea from a little caddy. In fact I said this out loud as I drank juice from the bottle because I’m becoming totally antisocial. Perhaps those British academians don’t fall asleep to Harry Potter quite as often as I do, but that’s because they don’t have Fresca to wake them up and send them to bed.

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