I'm completely uninteresting right now.

I'm completely uninteresting right now. I've written two posts today that I won't post, one because it was bad, and the other in the interest of discretion where S is concerned. Or put this way: I don't want S to have to read about my feelings about "that peculiar institution" on the internet. I just don't feel like I can do that. And I'm usually right there blathering about whatever you want to know. So you can see that this is the antithesis of my nature. At various times throughout the day, in fact, I've been getting ready to post it and then stopping myself. I even told S that I might post it. But I just can't do it. I'd like to discuss the topic, but it's not fair to do that right now, when S is reading my blog and somehow tied to the topic.

And as for the rest of me, well, I didn't do any homework today. But I only have four more projects left (and one is almost done, it just needs to be gone over with a fine-tooth comb) so I'm well on my way to finishing. The only daunting thing is that three of the four are due on Tuesday, with the last whopper due on Friday. Still, I feel slightly less stressed about that, so that's good. I did clean today, which is good, because the crumbs in the kitchen were starting to give birth to more crumbs, and I just had to nip that in the bud. S and I also did our grocery shopping, so that feels good. We spent a lot of money, but we had to buy Tide, which is apparently dearer than gold, it's so damn expensive. Why the hell is detergent so expensive? Anyway, now that we have detergent, I guess we should wash clothes. Ha.

And the last, troubling bit of info is that I cannot for the life of me get into a book. I have seven from the library, have read two, and started five. Yes, that's right. I just can't get into them. I've also started three different romance novels, and none feel right. Since reading is something I do while working out, eating, drying my hair, watching TV and in bed before sleep, this is only a little bit troubling. Shit! What am I going to do? Every single book I picked up at the library looked engrossing. I thought I would love all of them. And now I'm stuck. I feel like maybe I should pull the ol' Frank Lloyd Wright cross stitch out of the closet and start it. Yikes, scary. In actuality, I should probably do homework. Ah, the fun that is homework.