stereotypical single woman

Ah, summertime. It used to mean barbecues, eating outside with friends, icy complicated drinks, and roses in the garden.

This year it means accelerated semesters (14 wks instead of 16 doesn’t sound bad, but when you’re doing it x3 it’s a little bit much), tutoring (so I can eat)(and do laundry), project meetings and collaboration frustrations (padding the resume - it’s scary that I’ll be starting to apply for jobs in a few months)(and because I don’t know how to say no when flattered professionally), working with helicopter parents that somehow think that the person behind the reference desk at the library is who you go to to complain about a financial aid package (so I can pay rent)(and put gas in the car)(oh, and pad the resume some more)(and also because I seem to be a glutton for punishment), driving back and forth between GR and Detroit for doctor appts. that tell me nothing and just result in more appts. and tests (very frustrating)(and really fucking expensive), and a massive amount of homework that I have no motivation to do (although I have managed to write a paper touting Dooce as a modern-day humanist.) All made immeasurably harder because I keep passing out every few minutes from the noxious assault of cat ass.

Dude is relentless in his quest to be spanked. At any other time it’d make me laugh. Right now it’s just annoying me.

It’s all making being witty, lighthearted, and blogging a little rougher than normal so I’m taking a break for a few weeks. As much as I miss blogging on a frequent basis I have absolutely no material right now and need to finish up the semester with as few distractions as possible. But the end of summertime will hopefully involve all the previous fun stuff. And maybe even the cabana boy Raoul will show up (okay, really he’ll just have multiple starring roles in my imagination, but that doesn’t mean I won’t tell you about it.)