Seven Days

Last week was a big flop.

First, my sister and her boyfriend drove down from Iowa to stay with me during their October break. It was nice to see them, but I was allergic to their kitten, Gilbert. On the one hand, it was nice to realize that there are logistical obstacles to my becoming a cat lady. On the other hand, I determined that my one-bedroom is not meant to house three adults and one manic, if small, animal. Additionally, it’s weird when people come to visit you on “vacation,” but you happen to be in, um, midterms (those are pretty awful, by the way).

Second, I had a meeting with my thesis advisor. The process of writing a thesis–well, I can’t really say anything about it, since I’m not really writing yet. Basically, I need to buckle down and make time to get this thing in a workable state. The fact that I haven’t done this yet just makes me feel petty and anxious.

Third, I burned some toast and began to question my abilities as a cook. Seriously, I can make bread but not toast? What’s that about?

To lighten the mood, here’s a picture of a show I went to last Thursday: