Curses

I just left a comment on a friend's wall that I'm having doubts about my pursuit of higher education. I should be working on a 20-25 page paper about a philosopher that I don't understand and the pile of books in my floor make me want to cry.

Sara, on the other hand, is standing in my doorway, still in her bathrobe, sucking on an ice cube and telling me that she's going to paint her nails...and is now laughing hysterically because she put the ice on my neck and I had a delayed reaction.

She said we should be sitting on islands, eating popcorn and chocolate. I'm going to add strawberries to that list.

I've never been so unmotivated to write a paper in my life. I know that once I make an outline and cite my sources, I'll feel a little better, but can you blame me for not wanting to spend a Sunday afternoon making sense of Aristotle's metaphysics?

In other news, I got pranked on April Fool's Day. My editor put a post-it on my desk that said to call Mr. Lyon for details on a story, so I did. A voice recording came on and I pressed 9 for the operator. I told the lady I was calling for a Mr. Lyon. "I'm sorry," she said. "You've been pranked...This is the zoo." I felt like an idiot and then decided to pass along the number to Mom.

I also got a new toilet yesterday. I know that doesn't sound very exciting, but my old one was driving me nuts, so I have to tell everyone about my new appliance.

...Oh my gosh, I need to get out more.