The start of a new semester – nothing is worse. After getting all the final exams behind you and finally being free, you must return and stare down the long, long tunnel of déjà vu and misery. I just want to sit on my skinny ass all day and eat pumpernickel bread; is there anything so wrong with that?

My new class isn’t so bad. The prof has a PhD in something (the subject was left a little fuzzy during her introduction]. Her name is Madame Larsen, and she’s very sweet. I don’t think she is truly Français, but I will let that pass. She likes Salvador Dali, my hero, so I’ll let her be American for all I care.

I purchased all the required reading material after class, which included such titles as L’étranger by Camus (Shamoo what? Shut the fuck up) , Le Colonel Chabert by Balzac, and some other titles I am unfamiliar with. But I love spending $88.35 on books per class per semester. Especially when they’re all paperback.

I managed to walk all the way from my car to the bookstore with no coat and without a purse. I pride myself on my intelligence; walking around in Michigan in the winter without a coat, and walking into a store to buy things without bringing money. Ingenious.

Also today, I spent and hour and a half talking to all eight of my brother’s teachers to get the work he has missed by being sick this past week. Most of them were polite enough about it, while some felt the urge to bite my head off because I happen to related to their slacker-pothead-loud mouth-flirtatious-devilish student. One teacher, who shall remain nameless, even told me that Adam was so busy talking in class, he must be friends with everyone, so he could go ask them what the homework was. Very, very mature. Yeah.

My mother heated up some leftover cheesy potatoes and broccoli for me when I got home around five this evening. I even managed to eat some meatloaf *gag* without complaining overly much. She knows I don’t like beef unless it’s still attached to a living, mooing being. Poor exploited cows.

I gave my brother all the assignments I had spent the day collecting. He threw them on the floor without even turning his head from the general direction of the tv. Made all my hard work seem so worthwhile. I’m glad to know I’m appreciated. Or maybe he’s just sicker than I thought.

I watched the fish swim in the new fish tank for a while. Oscar, the cannibal, was eating his daily ration of goldfish for dinner, so I hurriedly left him in privacy to complete his evil, evil deed. Instead, I called the vet and made an appointment for my aging, senile cat of twelve years. He seems to have grown all sorts of bumps lately, and they have me worried. I’ve already lost numerous family members to cancer, and I’m not about to let Bean follow in that path. Bean is my equal, my friend. We have a dignified and sophisticated relationship that consists of long, intelligent conversations and several cuddling sessions per day where he is careful not to get too much fur on my clothes, and I’m careful of his brittle bones and severe lumpiness. I don’t know what I would do without him.