It's like the days don't have names anymore. Friday sounds like a foreign word on the native tongue of routine. Exhausted, I leave the solace of my couch and wander towards my bedroom.The wooden floor screeches at me with each step I take. I turn on the light and find a messy bed cornered into the wall. Next to it is a crowded dresser – the home of two empty cups, a lamp collecting dust, a used candle, and a retro-finished coaster neighboring an unfinished book. I flash a weak smile as I light the candle scented almond macaroons that immediately permeates my room. To be honest I'm not a big fan of sweets, but how can you oppose the smell of a dozen macadamia nut cookies baking in your room? I flick on the lamp and collaspe in my bed like we haven't seen each other in weeks. Finally, I'm home.