It's never too late.

And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way

Weighing my pockets with stones of longing

Especially when those days are Saturday and Sunday.

They always come crawling back

Tonight I ate dinner alone, which is normally, well, endurable. While I was getting some pasta, a cook was refilling the sauce and spattered scalding tomato juice all over my arm. Which was not very pleasant, but I still apologized first. I sat at the very very end of the football players' table (funny that there is one of those in college), and by the time I was halfway through my pasta the entire table was occupied, and I was the only female. I was also the only person I knew at the table. I glanced down at my tray and saw cupcake looking naked and self-conscious, so I tipped him upside-down to cover him up. He didn't want the football players to be staring jealously.

Hilde hollered that she was sorry she didn't see me when she sat down. On my way out, I saw two other French majors (well, French & Francophone studies, anyway, those wannabes... ha) chatting by the door so I ran to talk with them. It turns out neither of them have much to turn in, and one of the girls might not turn anything in until Wednesday or Thursday. We all knew, of course, that P would turn hers in yesterday, with 10 extra pages. But there's only so much room for P's in this world. So I'm feeling a little less stressed about it, though, realistically, I still have a lot of work ahead of me.

Folkdance was amazing today--when either Allison or Taylor were my partners for that French Canadian dance, I was lifted off the ground during the swing. Pretty exciting. My hair was very messed up by the time we were done.

I have a lot of catching up to do, still, and a good amount of it is depressing, so I'm going to wait. You are spared.

Okay, back to the mill.

What am I, chopped liver? at 6:54 p.m.