The Fool's Hall of Fame

Happy 58th Birthday to Chip and Dale!

Hard to believe this is my last Monday as a first semester 1L. Things are really piling up. You’d think the profs would schedule makeup classes before the last week to avert the very crunching sensation that we are all currently managing to operate under, but I guess that's why they get paid the big bucks. I hope the week just soars, but I presume that would comprise an unreasonable request. Tomorrow is going to be awful – we have a full day’s classes, plus a Property makeup (my least favorite class), a Property exam review with the professor, and one with the TA's discussing model answers. Hrmph. But every time things start clumping, I remember a line that I cannot for the life of me recall the source of: “If it were easy, everybody would do it.” But it’s nice to see all the houses illuminated with Christmas lights – people around here really get into it. There’s one house on my route to school that’s always illuminated, white lights on all the bushes and trees outside and ringing the fence, plus they have a multicolor Christmas tree peeking through the window. It's so pretty.

I woke up this morning to a strange sound like someone shuffling around hanging pictures. Through my half-awake haze I estimated the time as around midnight and concluded that Mom was shuffling around hanging or rearranging something. A moment elapsed before I remembered my location and the consequential impossibility of this deduction. I shot up in bed like Zippidy bounding to attention at the sound of the treat bag rustling and looked around wildly before realizing that a spectacular thunderstorm outside had slammed some tree branches against my window. Although it’s supposed to be 58 today, it’s cloudy and grumpy and overcast and generally dismal. To cap it all off, I have a monster headache, to which I am typically not predisposed.

I never realized how many times a day I peeked in on my rodents to see what they were up to, or if the Kleenex was rustling to indicate an awake occupant. I miss hearing the constant whine of the hamster wheels and seeing little poufballs scrambling about in the corner of my eye, but they both seem much happer in their current locale.

There were a considerable amount of people absent from Contracts this morning. Prof. Maggs didn’t say anything, but he did hover over his seating chart at the front of the room with his Pencil of Death, eagle eyes skittering about and honing in on all the vacant seats. I’m glad to be here.

I have this little snippet of my Thanksgiving “break” that keeps flashing through my mind at random but alarmingly frequent intervals like a determined wind that keeps slipping through the cracks of a doorway, altering its position every time another gap is obstructed. Everyone says it’s a good thing I wasn’t injured in the accident but I almost wish I would have been skewered – maybe the other guy would’ve felt bad and decided not to sue. I’ve had that jangly, itchy, nervous feeling in my stomach, like anticipating a horse show, ever since that bloody attorney called this morning (at 8:01). It’s a particular annoyance because I just shook my anxiety attacks and now they seem to be returning in full force. I feel like the biggest moron on Earth – I ought to be shot on the grounds of sheer stupidity.