The papers are graded. The paper on "1937," not any further along than yesterday.
I've decided my sore throat is not the inevitable spring cold. It's from smoking when I'm pretending to be a non-smoker. Back on the healthy-lung band wagon tomorrow.
I need a hobby. One that gets me out of my apartment and shuts my brain off. I was thinking about roller derby until I realized that I could break my fingers, and then how would I type my poems? I haven't been riding in over a month. I should get out to the farm.
I'm hungry, but it's much too late for dinner, and I try to avoid the midnight snacks.
Life seems a little less full when there are no new episodes of Grey's. I can't wait til Thursday.
I. am. tired.
Poem: Far Gone
2 days ago
2 comments:
I am so sorry you are one of 'those' people, who watch Grey's.
Please brighten my day by blogging about your utter contempt for Desperate Housewives. Please, or I may just have to burn my house down in a ritualized cleansing.
Justin, I hate to disappoint you, but I am a sucker for all things melodramatic. Besides, Grey's first season started the same fall that i started grad school, and although I'm certainly not comparing surgery to poetry, I felt an instant bond with the interns.
As for Despreate Housewives...I'm hooked on the storyline but don't actually have any sympathy for the characters. If I didn't have a DVR, I probably wouldn't watch it.
Sorry... : (
Post a Comment