Moving back to Raleigh

Bob Schmitz/Duke frat house a few doors down already gets police on their second night. Drunk freshmen run past my house, aimlessly into the scary Walltown night, presumably so they can escape being written up and preserve their chances of running for Congress, or, more likely, to avoid upsetting Mom and Dad, who just a moment ago parked the Lexus LX570 in the Greenwich, CT garage after the grueling drive back up from Durham. I’m too tired to be annoyed. Hope there’s no broken glass for Herman to step on tomorrow.

No, I’m not moving back to Raleigh.

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