DG

When I lived downstairs I was neighbor to Casey, a 21 year old exchange student from the northwest. After one semester at the U of A he decided it was a better life spending the final few semesters at his own school. He gave me his Hostess cupcakes and Easy Mac stash and drove home.

Yesterday he knocks on my door with Thom, who I have been introduced to on about 12 different occasions. As is our tradition he decides that I need to meet my neighbors, because, as he says, they're not all like Annoying Brian (his old roommate.) He takes me next door to the girls who he is staying with's room. On the door is a huge baby blue construction paper anchor with DG written on it in silver and pink paint. Inside I meet the secretary of the sorority my old roommates were in, the roommates who we moved away from. She's fresh out of bed, even though it's 7:30 pm, wrapped in a blanket and complaining of a headache. We compare our impressions of my old roommates and I share a few of more fonder memories, say the one where she's doing her hair wearing nothing but a shirt, or maybe pink thong laundry day when they filled up an entire clothes horse with only pink thongs. After assuring me that not all GSs are like that she succumbs to the pain in her head, sinks to the floor, and Casey and I carry on the conversation.

Casey starts to tell me how refreshing it is to see fields of grass and even a tree or two. He mentions how nice it is to walk on a paved sidewalk and pass by a house made of wood, not brick or stucco. From under the blanket on the floor DG Secretary begins to laugh. Casey and I both look at her, confused.

"A house made of wood?!"

Still looking at her.

"You mean a cabin? A LOG CABIN?"

She's still laughing. We're still looking at her.

"Has she lived in Arizona all her life?" I ask Casey.

"Yeah, why?" She answers, still laughing about the college with log cabins for buildings made entirely of wood.