There is this song on the radio and I can't remember the title for the life of me. It's instrumental, on the oldies station, lots of cowbell and trumpet. Greg just kind of looked at me when it came on and made a funny face. He's not such a big fan of oldies, but since he is in my room, he'll have to tough it out.
Speaking of Greg. I went downstairs to get some lunch after my shower and got a baked potato, some lemonade, and the mother loadof puppy chow. As I stepped onto the elevator, I heard a guy yell, "Hold the elevator!" so I did--low and behold, Greg. "I've been calling you, why don't you return any of my calls? I've been worried about you. I even came all the way over here so you would talk to me and to make sure you're okay." I really do love that he's concerned for my well-being but it doesn't change that I don't want to date him. The kid is nearly perfect, I'll give that to him, but he surely deserves better, especially since I don't want to date. I wish he would listen to me when I tell him that. Oh, so persistent.
I have to leave for class now or I won't get a good seat. I hate lectures so much. I guess he's walking me over there, too. Good Lord, Greg.
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