I know that under any normal circumstances, I would cringe at the thought of actually spending money at a place like IHOP, however, I am now a poor college student who is seriously desperate for anything resembling a balanced meal. This morning, I went to IHOP with two of my roommates. And as much as I hate to admit this, I really, actually, truly did not hate it. I kind of enjoyed it. It was good. Sitting at this IHOP in Cambridge among the hungover Harvard undergrads slowly sipping their water bottles and the creepy pregnant ladies and their husbands in their mid 30s who seriously resembled carnival attractions, I felt strangely at peace. I actually kind of felt happy, I felt like, for some reason, I had something in common with these people. The fact that we were all hungover? Probably not. Maybe it was the fact that we all knew that we were eating at one of the grossest and most un-authentic pancake houses in the world, yet we were all really enjoying it.

I kind of want to go every sunday.