I lost the fight early Monday morning. I named the fly Bernard. He's gone now, but his presence was a light in the darkness. I'm thinking of getting a turtle.
The Caf in J&H isn't all that amazing, but they have the best grilled cheese sandwiches I've ever laid teeth on. They're gooey, but crusty and so so so buttery. I eat one and feel like I'm
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and, dude, quit that class! he sounds like he is el creepy.
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I wish I could quit, but it's one of the only upper-level Spanish classes that sound remotely interesting and if I don't take care of it this semester I won't have room next for other stuff. It's not so bad now that I sit a row behind the front and don't wear tank tops (it's too cold). No one else in this class cares about it, so as long as I say something in class, he'll like me and give me a good grade. That's really all I care about at this point. I don't need to understand it, just get at least a B.
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