it’s good to be home

I haven’t been gone for days, but it feels so good to be home. I spent 17.5 hours away from home today, 15 of which were spent at the law school, and 17 of which were spent doing law-relat­ed and law-school-relat­ed things. My head hurts. Not like it did when I was seri­ous­ly in pain a cou­ple weeks ago. It is just very dif­fi­cult to artic­u­late any thoughts right now.

I am pleased to say that Dani and I have fin­ished our moot court brief (more than 12 hours before it’s due!), and we’ll be print­ing it off tomor­row morn­ing. We’ll cel­e­brate with mimosas. Mmm. And then I’ll clean my house, get copies made of my key, do laun­dry, pack for spring break, and maybe think about law school things some more. Oh, and I’ll get all the stuff for the East­er egg hunt togeth­er. That should­n’t be so bad. I’m going to put peb­bles in some of the eggs, maybe mini action fig­ures in oth­ers, and then the tra­di­tion­al stuff like can­dy and cere­al (is my fam­i­ly the only one that got cere­al like Froot Loops and Lucky Charms in their East­er eggs?). I may fill an egg with pen­nies. It will be awe­some.

And now for my ran­dom mus­ings:

I did a pret­ty bad park­ing job this morn­ing, and it made me wish that I could blame it on the tuba sec­tion pick­ing up my car and mov­ing it. I still wish the bass­es had start­ed a war with the tubas. That would have been great.

I got an inter­view with an orga­ni­za­tion I’ve been real­ly inter­est­ed in for years! My (phone) inter­view is next week, though, which is when we’ll be in the Twin Cities for this ser­vice trip, so I’m hop­ing my friends behave when I’m being inter­viewed and they’re all in the car.

Creepy guys bug me.

At times I feel like I am going to implode. Or explode. I guess maybe I feel like a neu­tron star, suck­ing mass in and get­ting denser and denser and then spew­ing it all away. Isn’t that the process for a neu­tron star? Astron­o­my was four years ago, which seems like light years away (haha).

I kind of like hav­ing a van­i­ty blog. But then I feel kind of self­ish. And annoyed with myself for using “I” so much. Oh well. It’s my blog. Don’t read it if you don’t want to.

I’m exhaust­ed.