Instead, I stayed up through the early hours of this morning. We were doing nothing of importance, nothing of particular interest. We were just guys in an apartment, stuck in that mode of being ready to call it a night but not having a desire to go to bed. I had already done all of this during the summer. Air guitaring to 80s music, spotting all the hot dog references in The Meateater, watching home videos, none of this was new to me.

And yet this time was different. More peaceful, perhaps. I felt a subtle joy, realizing the glory of mere contentment. I took myself out of the scene. I saw three roommates back together, hanging out in their apartment for the first time in over three months.

I woke up in this apartment most mornings this summer, but usually I was the only one. Three bedrooms, two bath, one person. I was free to shower with the bathroom door open, to watch whatever I wanted on TV whenever I wanted, to get only groceries that I would eat, to bring people over at 3 am without worry.

But I was no longer free to perform dialogue from American Movie, to turn around and ask for the spelling of lachrymose, to walk down the hall and tell someone what Luke Wilson just told Jay Leno, to go pick up Bacon Egg and Cheese biscuits at 4 in the morning. Having my roommates back is similar to what I actually think of them as people. Not necessarily exciting, but good. Just good. Good enough for me.