Summer school ended four hours ago, which means I'm officially a third of the way through school. The results of the past few months are:
1. I'm currently in a dysfunctional relationship with yet another twenty-something and will spend the rest of summer vacation plotting ways to extricate myself.
2. I think far more about Calvinism than I would wish on anyone, even a Calvinist.
3. My stomach hurts after I eat.
4. Still no progress on my unpainted dining room, let alone the giant hoarder stacks of unfiled papers. I can, however, recite minor Emily Dickinson poems from memory and provide you with obscure OED definitions for much of her vocabulary. (Did you know "disparage" can mean unequal marriage? And "cochineal" is made from crushed dead insects.)
5. If I hear one more teacher complain about the "smiley face" grading system in the California schools, I will definitely go into rampage mode despite my lack of any better weapon than a squirt gun.
To be fair, I only heard one teacher make the "smiley face" comment, but I've had to listen to her make it four times over the past six weeks.
O, to be a non-student who could rejoinder, "So. What have you published recently?" Instead I give her an actual, real-life smiley face in order to escape becoming any more of a target for the bitter emptiness that constitutes her soul.
Oh, yeah, and there are increasing amounts of caffeine and sleep aids in my life. Ah, bliss, summer vacation. School doesn't start again for...
...13 days. Or six, if I decide to take that programming class.
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