For shame

At work, two days back from Europe, I turn to blogger to occupy my time while files copy onto a CD I'm burning from my boss (see, not totally idle procrastination). About to click the new post icon, I notice this last post, started weeks ago, and never finished. Never finished, mainly because Amy returned home and Nat and I had a very interesting convo re: pidgeon racism, don't pretend it doesn't exist. Anyway, I post the shreds of an entry here for no other reason than to prove that I did try to blog, I haven't been ignoring the blog completely, I just forget to finish my posts, really, I swear. Okay, fine, or I just deserve nothing but shame. Stay tuned, European postings coming soon.


In fear of a re-run of the virus that ate me (originally aired in September of last semester), I named this weekend "the weekend to stay in and catch up on homework so that I don't get sick and die." Which places me perched cross-legged on my bed ("Indian-style" is so not-p.c., for those of you who grew up in that age; those of us quasi teachers should know) working. Aka blogging about very little. And before those of you who told me I was crazy to take an intensive language at 9:15 every morning (knowing full well that the inhuman thing emerging from my bed eventually known as Caitlin with coffee) assert your "rightness", I should add that I am not staying in to study Russian, which is more or less the least of my academic worries. I'm here to catch up on interminable readings, and reading is something I can't really do yet in Russian. Ah, beginning languages. I have not known thee since 6th grade.