Back to School. . .

. . .Back to school, to prove to Dad that I'm not a fool. I got my lunch packed up, my boots tied tight, I hope I don't get in a fight. Ohhhh, back to school. Back to school. Back to school. Well, here goes nothing.

Tomorrow I return to my beloved workplace. For some reason, I'm not that upset about it, which may just mean that it hasn't fully hit me. Or that I'm insane. Really, though, I'm fine with it. I just had 17 days off of school! And I got paid! So, I don't really fell like I'm in a position to be complaining. This tune may change come 6:30 a.m., but right now I'm good. The sooner I go back to school, the sooner we get to go to Ft. Lauderdale (annual time with Matt's parents, the Godfather, my Soulmate, and the Hard Rock Casino). Then comes birthday, spring break, warm weather, and SUMMER. See, returning to school isn't so bad after all.

A smart Mandy would be in bed right now. But we all know that I'm not a smart Mandy. At least, not anymore. I think my intellect peaked when I was 21 years old. Tonight I came across some of my old college papers and couldn't believe how smart I used to be! Big words, fancy sentences, insight, the works! What happened? Well, I blame Matt. Junior year of college--the peak--was pre-Matt. Actually, that doesn't make sense because Matt is about 200 times smarter than me, in spite of being colorblind and essentially retarded when it comes to spatial relationships.

Maybe I should have a New Year's resolution: to become as smart as the Mandy of 2002. I owe it to myself, and to my students.

Wait--does that mean that I have to stop watching The Hills and The City? If so, deal's off.