Well, Pedro got back in today. When I came home, he was already passed out in front of the blaring TV with a fat sack of weed on the table in front of him. The whole place reeks like stale joints again. The place isn’t a mess yet, but I suspect that’s only because he’s been in Wisconsin for a mere seven hours.

Seven hours. Think about that. That means that he either made a point of buying weed the first thing he did when he got back into Madison, or he was actually dumb enough to smuggle it on the plane. I suspect the latter.

:: sigh ::

A small part of me was hoping that he’d never come back. Dammit. I was much happier without him here.

I really hope he isn’t going to lose his job. Not because I really give a shit about him at this point… I just don’t want to hear him bitch. And I don’t want to get evicted.