now that the weekend is regrettably over, i can begin telling people that i'm going on vacation this week. semantics? sure. but it's the little things, no?
5 days. 120 hours until i get on the plane. the only problem i can forsee with the vacation is that we're flying first thing saturday morning, which means it's just a little too early to start drinking. not that i'm afraid of flying, and have to be toasted. as some of you may know, i spent some time in a way-too-small cessna whilst in a previous relationship, and after thinking half a dozen times your boyfriend (who's a great pilot, don't get me wrong) was going to kill you .... hopping on northwest is a fricking dream. anyway. sorry. the point was that i don't need to be toasted to fly, i just happen to prefer it. maybe i'll pop some bailey's in the coffee. it is vacation, after all.
there is a bastard pigeon eating my dill. asshole. i think today might be like a bad dream - stuck in my apartment studying property (aka the most boringest topic of law known to man), getting papercuts from my hundreds of pages of notes, strung out on red bull and saltines, having to run to the balcony every ten seconds to scare of the pigeons. it's gonna be a gooooooood day.