I prefer to think of it as "extreme yoga."

I really didn't need it, but I now have super awesome closure from my many months of living with the vile swamp creature that is my former roommate. As we last stood, we had spoken on the phone and she had informed me that, because she's the quintessential bitch, she was keeping $150 from my deposit because I "left the room and bathroom in dire need of repair and cleaning." Because you can do that after living somewhere for less than six months. While running errands today, I realized, shortly after leaving the grocery, that I had to make one final stop at Target. I was traveling by my old neighborhood, and out of habit, I turned up the street I used to take to drive home all the time. And, just for shits and giggles, I decided to drive by the place that taught me how to hate.

Surprisingly enough, it's still standing. And each respective car of the warring lesbians was parked out front. Apparently, fighting to the point that you're choking each other brings you closer together instead of ending a miserable relationship. What a remarkable phenomenon.

I slowed the car quite a bit, looked at the house, and was suddenly overcome with the urge to stare at the house, hold up my middle finger, and say "FUCK YOU" as I drove by.

Yes, it was immature. Yes, it was ridiculous to harken back to this past experience, to let myself feel again just how much negativity that place exudes. On the other hand--and this is the really good part--it felt so incredibly good to have the last word. It's about fucking time.