Finished my last (ish) mid-term today. It was such a hot mess, I don't even wanna talk about it, but I came out, if not unscathed, at least alive.
Tomorrow is my fella's birthday, and I swear to God, I'm more excited about it then he is. I think birthdays are important, I think it's important to recognise how glad we all are that you were borned on this very day. I love my birthday, I get all dressed up every year - a shin dig lovingly referred to as the Messy Dressy (we get dressed up, and then get right messy. RIGHT messy.) Last year, I got home two days after I left my apartment. Well, at least the pictures are hilarious. I'm not going to tell you about any of the things that I'm doing or giving him for his birthday until after, in case he reads this tonight.
So now, I wrap gifts, while listening to old Pearl Jam, and think about how very lucky I am to be on this side of the dirt after the hellish week I've had. Shit's ok man.