Ronald Reagan Boulevard, Good Riddance/ Personal Crap

For a number of reasons, I’m moving. My wacky-wild-Koolaid-style roommate recently accepted a position through the Department of Justice working in the International Zone (Baghdad) on the DOJ team advising and assisting the Iraqi Special Tribunal. These dudes are responsible for prosecuting Saddam Hussein and his cohorts. When not serving in that paralegal-esque capacity, he will be painting walls. Either way, he's no longer sleeping in the other room.

So that jazz, a completed lease, and a sweaty walk up a hill every afternoon convinced me it was time for a new adventure. I’ll be living close to the National Zoo in the Woodley Park area of DC in a beautiful 6-bedroom, 4-level house. I don’t know any of my roommates yet. Two others have been chosen. All I know from my landlord is one works at the World Bank, one is in real estate, one is 25, one is 29, one is from Pakistan, and nobody knows from where the other hails. Please choose-your-own-adventure and combine those aforementioned characteristics to form two roommates (when you guys are reading this a month or two later because I’m forcing you at gunpoint, please forgive my mish-mashing). The rest are on the way. Cameras monitor every nook and cranny in the house and the show is set to air on MTV in the Spring of ’06. Word.

My third floor room is small, but the single window provides a spectacular view of the Swiss Embassy across the street and the top of the National Cathedral in the distance. I'm hoping the bells increase my number of conscious hours on a typical Saturday. If I get hungry, I can sneak up to the cathedral flower garden and eat roses. Also, the house comes complete with a functioning xylophone. I mean, c’mon. Please contact me personally to receive an updated mailing address where you can ship fan mail and exotic animals after September 10th.