Always leaving potlucks with an empty dish. TSM.

Suppressing the urge to say “Aw, wittle baby!” every time I see a puppy. TSM.

He knows he’s in trouble when I don’t use abbrevs in my texts. TSM.

The understanding yet sympathetic inquiry, “Oh, group project?” from sisters when they see you in the library with GDIs. TSM.

Angry cleaning. TSM.

I may be 21, but I still sign my signature with hearts over my i’s. TSM.

Feeling sorry for the pretty girls on the Bachelor who couldn’t find a fratdaddy in college. TSM.