So here's the thing: I think I am experiencing a mild case of beginning-of-the-semester-depression. Nothing huge or clinical . . .no, just a bit ho-hum to have left my favorite place on earth (home) and some of my favorite people on earth. Not to mention that all my lovely friends are still on holiday, while I trudge to my early class on the other side of campus in 10 inches of snow. I'm not casting any dispersions on my campus, snow or even the huge icey patch that was once my shortcut to the crosswalk, I just am a little degradatated at getting back in the saddle again. I love going to class, I even hazard to say that all my classes are going to be enjoyable and interesting this semester, but I don't want to start taking tests and having papers due. But I guess . . .no I know that it comes with the territory, every rose has its thorns, as they say.
My current condition might also have a little something to do with the writer's strike that drags on and on and on and on . . .it might be indirectly affecting me. Heaven knows I'll go psychopants if this little tiff as it were gets in the way of new episodes of Pushing Daisies airing. Anyway, senseless prattle. Pardon me, I think this is what happens to a body when he or she reads about research methods for 2 hours.