Just as the bruise on my shin [incurred when my geriatric grandfather kicked me in a senility-induced rage] is fading, so are the final strains of my freedom. Before anyone interrupts with, "What are you complaining about? Everyone else in the Northern Hemisphere has been back in school for weeks!," please take the time to consider that my university was in session until fairly late in June. Then I had injuries from a lovely auto accident AND a case of croup interfering with my frivolity.
This week I plan to sleep late, then to go to the beach every day. I'll watch IQ-diminishing television programming, and I'll eat ice cream for breakfast. If that isn't decadent enough, I'll eat frozen waffles (heated in the toaster; they come frozen, but I don't eat them that way) with butter AND syrup for lunch. I'm not ordinarily so gluttonous in terms of what I eat, but I have an appointment with my pediatric endocrinologist, and my dad has offered me a hundred dollars if I can get my weight back up to at least eighty-eight.
Peace be with you, and with your little dog, too.