I woke up this morning at my usual time, 06:00, and my body said to me, “Ha ha, Lissa. This is what it feels like to be 85 years old with a cracked back, uncooperative muscles, and swollen feet.” “Oh, and by the way, all of your mosquito bites shall simultaneously begin to itch, and your index and middle fingers on your left hand shall be swollen and unbending.” I so almost called Michael to tell him I wasn’t working today, but the thought of calling his house at 06:00 in the morning made me get up anyway. I spent this week working at my friend’s house, doing more of…

Dear, dear, sweet Hannah. I would thank you for kicking me in the ass about my lack of posting, except that I still have very little to post. Last Monday and Tuesday, I worked with Michael again, doing (alas!) more digging. Those times, however, my ever-giggly (and slightly disgusting, in a very guy way) buddy Chris was there. I must say, there are few things more exhausting than trying to stop laughing/giggling while two of your friends are egging each other on. And that’s not counting the ever-present digging. Utterly exhausting. So Tuesday, I brought my MP3 player full of Linkin Park’s Meteora, which helped somewhat, although they supposedly talked…

Not much new going on… My debate with Cleric turned to the irresolvable debate of choice vs. nature for sexuality (as I suspected it would eventually). I say nature (although you can choose your actions/lifestyle that are based on that nature), he says choice for it all (as in, he chose to be attracted to women and not to men, etc.). It’s an interesting twist, but I suspect the whole debate shall fizzle out for a while. Sorry, dude. Friday I went to work with Michael; essentially, we dug for eight hours. Actually, there’s no “essentially” about it: we just dug for eight hours with a couple of breaks (and…

I’m just about sick of being examined. Yesterday was my first doctor’s visit in two years, and my first physical in about three years. Contrary to the sage advice of my friend Jenny, I did not have my pap smeared (ew, ew, ew). Rose-Hulman requires a battery of tests, however, including (and this surprised even my doctor), an exercise test, in which the doc measures your resting pulse, then you jog in place for a minute, then your pulse is measured again immediately after, then again two minutes later. But all in all, the exam went well. Apparently, there is nothing to be done about the icky sac of fluid…

La, la, la… So singing isn’t my forte. Don’t be hatin’. The link is from George’s new site, Negrophile (in particular, this entry).