Oh God...I'm going home in two days (not counting today!) but I really don't think I'll make it until then. My will to do ANYTHING has been sucked out of my body by the mindless routine that has comprised my "summer vacation" thus far. And, it is to be understood that "summer vacation" has one big ol' set of bunny ears around it. Summer it may be, but a half assed summer at that (the only word I have to describe the mornings here lately is "dank." Not even "damp," as that would imply some real, viable sort of weather. Oho, no. Here it's just dank, think "dim," and a little bit of "rank," with lots of "grey," spelled with an "e," and not with an "a.") And then "vacation?!" There's an awful lot of 9 to fiving going on for this to be vacation. :::sigh::: So yes...everything is deteriorating until the day I get on that plane and blow this popsicle stand. It's the little things that I've been letting go, you know? Like my whole summer diet- well, less of a diet than a montre involving not eating stuff that's bad for me. That's turned into, "Well, but I'll only have one more spoonful of ice cream, right out of the carton, because, after all, there is a really big brownie chunk in the next spoonful, and the idea of leaving it until next time is almost absurd, really. I can eat more ice cream, anyway...I mean, it won't hurt anything...I jogged five miles...yesterday..." And I'm sure "yesterday" will turn into "2 and 3 days ago." You watch. :::sigh::: Maybe the only motivation I have left is the negative kind. I need to...to find a picture of a really fat person or something. And then cut it out. And paste my head on the body. And plaster the whole ordeal to the fridge. I just want to go home. And sleep in past 7. And get a tan. And read, or not read. And sit around. And not be a responsible-adult-in-training.

Maybe you're right, I am a little hard to put up with. :)