I was in full packing mode this afternoon, chair blocking the doorway, piles filling the small aisle between my desk and bed, on the phone, music booming. At that opportune moment, my roommate returned home, engaged in loud conversation with her boyfriend, and expected to enter our room with her laundry basket. I closed my eyes and turned away, reluctant to break the seal to my solitude, disrupt the method to my madness.

There's a conclusion to that thought, I swear.