Okay. So the last few weeks of school are stressful. There is
And then. Because I'm slightly stressed, I want to mention that genius me thought I could pull off two graduate classes while teaching. So that is what I am trying to do. Every.Single.Other.Thing.In.My.Life.Besides.Teaching.And.Grad.School.Has.Come.To.A.Hault
And in the back of my head I hear the lady that I spoke with during registration "This puts you at TWO classes while teaching full time. Do you really want to do this?" That lady needs to shut up. She got her point across.
But back to the screeching hault.
This includes the blog. And the tile is up and EVERYTHING and there all these projects we've got lined up. Including, but not limited to: TWO homemade light creations, kitchen curtain/blinds, beadboard for the island, and that pesky roman blind for the huuuuuuge front window. Oh, yeah. And the staining. I'm staining two coffee tables and two chairs.
And just to add to the stress, I'm sick. Again. Cue the sad music. The other night I irrigated my nose with the Neti-pot and all this STUFF came out and I was all, "Jeremiah, come see this!" and he wouldn't. Sadsies.
At some point I may share with all of you (and some of you already know) more about my disease sickies. And the meds that have lowered my immune system that are necessary to keep the disease sickies from spreading/progressing/causing me agonizing pain. But for now, just know that I am sick and miserable and trying to teach and trying to do two graduate classes.
p.s. In case you don't remember, I almost cut off my finger completing last year's "endoftheyear/mustbecompletedbeforewepayyou" checklist. If you didn't get a chance to read about that dark day when I cried in front of the custodians and said bitch in front of my Mormon teacher next door, you can live out the day HERE HERE HERE I ALMOST LOST A FINGER HERE.
p.p.s. I declare this post open for frustrated rants, comments, tirades, etc. Let it out, people. It isn't good for your skin to keep all that stress bottled up. As Meg Ryan says in French Kiss, "Express, don't repress."
p.p.p.s. I feel better already. I mean, mentally/emotionally. Not physically. That'll take some time. And some serious antibiotics.