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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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overachieving and baked goods
Ugh. I am waking up to the ever dirty house. Why is it that I find myself so completely incapable of housework? I find it so utterly boring, so ridiculously useless (despite the fact that I want a clean house). I want a clean house with no clutter and everything in place, yet I don't want to be the one to clean it. Damn you, housework! But, in fact, the day holds housework in store if I am to host the first meeting of the Ladies in Science Bake-Off. Yes, we are all going to gather round the test kitchen (as in, gee, I wonder how this appliance works. Let's test it to find out...) and try our hands at that which women all over the world do everyday of their lives without mortal fear in their hearts. What could be more fun? I've also decided to invite Malarka and to ask Sophistica to invite MayFlowers (as they see each other all the time). I'll let you know how it turns out. What did I mean to write about this morning? Oh, yes! Grades! My grades are in (all but one), and they are good. Very good. (Insert evil cackle here.) An A+ in both chemistry and molecular cell biology, and an A in immunology. The grade that isn't in, English (the banned books class), is worrying me a bit because after having written an essay about the upside of banning books (which was very sarcastic, but still--) I'm thinking, this can't be good. It's like I'm the prosecutor and the jury's been out too long for me to continue to hopefully predict a favorable outcome. Ah, hell, at heart, I really don't care. If I get a B, I'll have to shoot the professor, naturally, but this won't happen. (Note to self: If the professor really does end up dead, erase this e-mail.) Not too exciting an entry, but it'll have to do.
More lies:
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