This is nice. A blessing actually. This thermostat has been averaging a good 20 degrees more per day, making the room unbearable. Thanks to the shift of cool weather, I can actually breath in my room.
I managed to make it through the first day of classes without falling asleep. Two lectures and homework on what should have been just the average syllabus day. The guys and I made the mistake of talking into the wee hours of the morning. We paid for it today. Nap is pending.
Matt and I are also the reigning South Aldrich Foose Ball Champions. We went 8-2 yesterday, dropping one of a best of three for the championship and losing some random game by one point. It was my fault, I should have blocked that shot.
Last night I had a dream where I needed to gain weight, so I decided to eat my spare change. It was at some point after my third nickel that I realized this wasn't a good idea. I'm not sure what tipped me off but it may have had something to do with the fact that every time I shook my belly the coins could be heard jingling from within. These three nickels had to be extracted and I believed the best way to do this was to use the finger down throat method. Do you know how hard it is to throw up 15 cents? Neither did I.
There was a time when I could write. A time when passion flowed through my fingers and the words weaved themselves together with ease. My ideas were endless. The perfect sentence was as easy as dotting the lower case j. Today I find that constructing the perfect sentence is much like predicting the weather. I just go with a hunch and most of the time I'm wrong. My words are left without an umbrella in which to deflect the rain away from my craft. My sentences are as predictable as playdough. I type either snakes or pancakes and in the end it always ends up brown and crusty. I reread without much hope. I post with embarrasment. I lose my best material to sentence fragments and a poor vocabulary. I can turn an amazing piece into Grandma's knitted blanket: pretty, warm, too many holes.