Stop Whining and Clean Your Room, Already

There is laundry that beckons, crying to be bleached and doused and detergent-ed. There is a living room with scattered debris, the remnants of my flurrying week. There is a bedroom floor that is skulking around down there, somewhere, to the best of my knowledge, and is dreaming of the freeing song of the vacuum. There are dishes festering in the sink, and food particles racing to prove the evolutionary process.

I need to clean.

But right now I'm in a Jon Foreman-induced nirvana, because of procrastination. That's right. It finally paid off. I would like to pretend it was some kind of self control. I would like to say that I bought the package deal last year sometime, intentionally avoiding downloading it until all four sections were released so that I could truly enjoy the most Jon Foreman bang-for-my-buck. I was just too lazy to buy some CD's and get the job done, actually. I did get around to downloading it last week (several weeks after the last section's release, and several MONTHS after the first's) but I've owned it since they started releasing tracks. I'm the worst fan ever.

On the upside, I uploaded them all this weekend to my personal "tuning everyone else in the world out, no I don't have a dollar, I can't hear you if you whistle at me, and wow, I ought to be paying attention to the trains when crossing the street" listening device. It's been a good week. Jon walks me to work, rides the MAX with me, even goes running. Sometimes we get lunch in a little cafe, just the two of us. It's been amazing to wade through the music several times, pulling the strings to see what meaning can be found, lyrically and musically. I love these guys.

New class? Hate the lecture soooo much, and being a culinary kid is not too conducive to vegetarianism. I hate this. Now, I'm going to be honest here. Those of you who know me know that I'm not veg for any ethical reasons, really. But everything I learn in culinary school reinforces it for me (we were talking about worms in the flesh of halibut this morning) and I've done a good job about being really consistent for months now (almost 8). Yesterday I ate a cheeseburger. I was craving it, I indulged the urge, and I think that's my prerogative. But with this new class, the teacher is CRAZY UPTIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING. Sorry, I hardly ever resort to typing in caps, but some people just merit that level of insane, inane, low-level communication. She's so arbitrarily irritating about everything, in fact, that I'm going to be a real martyr about the vegetarianism this month. She says I don't have to eat anything we make, but I have to at least taste it. I hate spitting things out, I think that's gross. But I didn't sign up for this part of life, and I'm milking my pretentious eccentricities for all they're worth. Ha!

Bite me, veal stock.