So, Kirby Puckett died today. I'm not a fan of baseball, but I dug him. Minnesota dug him. He was only 44 years old...totally sad. What eas even more sad is that I was at a sports bar and no one even paid attention to the 18/58 update on ESPN that announced it.
I have a story due to class on the 23rd, and I'm already panicking about it. I'm gun shy, of course, because the last time I brought a story to these wolves they ripped it to pieces, but I'm starting to think that the idea I had is one of those ideas that's only good in your head...when you put it on paper it magically turns to crap on the page. I will soldier on, though, because otherwise I'll have to grade papers.
This Wednesday is my last Atwood class. It so wasn't what I thought it was going to be, but I think it was as good as it could be. I'm actually starting to bond with some of the people in the class, which is a downfall because, well, it's done.
And life is crazy busy. I feel like I'm out of the house all the time. I actually have a social life. It's crazy.
So, that's the update on me just for you, my loyal readers. Now I do have to go write. Or grade. NO SIMS. Must work.