My roommate broke my gray IKEA chair.

Not by sitting on it. By laying it on its side and stuffing it under my desk.

It's not the breaking of the chair that I even care about - one of the screws holding it together snapped in half, so it's an easy fix. It's the whining and apologizing he's been doing for the last half hour straight. When I say that it's easier for me to drive out to Home Depot than for him to take a bus, I mean it. Christ, I almost wish I hadn't told him.

Just eight more days...