Even If You Are My Least Favorite Vegetable

Finals are nearly complete, and Christmas is closer than I can believe. All I will do is sleep and write and read and eat. And, if my prayers for precipitation ever get answered, play in the snow.
But for now I'm alone at a table in the library save Mr. Volcom With The Shiny Watch over here who continues to cast elegantly pissed glances toward the pastel group next door and the constant cataract of whispers they effeminately sluice our way. Just 1 and 3/4 finals left to go, and then I'm free to read and run and wander and write as much as I like.
But for now I need to have a long conversation with John Milton and my depressingly spotless Word document.
See you on the other side.

Norwegian Wood -- The Beatles