what is the word

What a blah week, what a blah day. I have a lot of nothing to blog about. I've been going straight home after work in an attempt to be good. I've been cooking all of my own food & packing my own lunches. Yesterday I was very very good indeed. I finished all of my Christmas shopping, save the nephew because God help me, I couldn't bear the Toys R Us at Union Square. I walked in thru the revolving doors, took one look at the ravaged landscape & wild-eyed anarchy & swiveled out again straightaway. Lo siento, Tono. I'll try harder today. & I'll bring a machine gun just in case.
So anyway after that I went home with my packages in hand. I was bad in a way because I didn't clean my room & I smoked massive amounts of weed with my new roommate & her new bong, but then I was good after all because I finished up a second draft of the short story I'd been putting off revising for weeks. I finished an entire second draft even tho by the end I could hardly see the screen because I was so stoned. My new roommate's new bong is this massive handblown thing with a thick wavy tube at the top & a giant pretty marble at its base. The first time I smoked out of it I scribbled notes to myself in my bedroom, & the next day when I looked at them they just said, "Gosh. Wow this Holly Golightly record is the best thing ever. Why is it I don't have more records exactly like this one? Wow wow wow."
So I finished up draft number 2, despite my impaired vision & my impaired typing. I think I'm going to have to cut the ending after all, which makes me a little sad. I was happy with the ending & now it doesn't belong anywhere, so I'll put it here.

That summer we didn't have A/C and it was very hot; we played Hangman under the sheets with a flashlight in the dark. We were like children with terminal illnesses, or in the final days of summer camp: our time together had already been spent. I thought about it again in the fall, when I buttoned up my coat against the new chill, getting ready to leave his place one morning. I thought how different it was from the last time I'd been there alone. His room so bare and blue, not a speck on the walls, and only his clothes hanging in the closet. It was only M.'s place now; a little less together; a little bit lost; barer, dearer.