Just in case you've wondered what I've been doing since my release from the institution...I mean that beautiful school that I love with my entire heart.
Number of bags to move home: 37. Exaggeration? Only slightly...
Number of days it took to begin to tackle a room invaded by two college aged girls: 2
Number of hours spent unpacking said room: 12. No exaggeration this time, unfortunately.
Number of jobs applied for: 16
Number of interviews: 3
Number of positions offered: 0
Number of consolation dollars my dad gave me to try and make me feel better: $5
Number of friends gone for the summer: Roughly all of them...except for a precious couple. So all of them -- the few brave souls left.
Number of hours in a air-condition-less van to Florida: 23
Number of pina coladas by the pool: 2
Number of guys who asked for my phone number in Florida: 3 and all of the stories are FABULOUS, let me tell you.
Number of said guys who could speak coherent English: 1
Number of hours working on my [ridiculously impressive] tan: countless
Number of times I had to bite my tongue on the way home: it's still healing, if that tells you anything.
Number of van breakdowns: 1...epic.
Number of Alias dvds I've already devoured, due to a huge lack of things to do: 7
Number of books I've read: 3
Number of blogs I've written: 0
So. There it is. Sorry for the absence...I've been too busy wallowing in self-pity and boredom to drag my sorry butt to my Mac [ooh, nice development -- wireless Internet. Meaning I can now waste time online from my bedroom. Loooove it.] and actually do anything productive. I mean, I'm kind of kidding...but only kind of.
But anyway, I'm back now and I have stories and I promise to try to be better about writing. It's not like I have anything else going on, although Julie just informed me that tomorrow is "Farm Day" and it starts at 9:00 AM. Joy.
Until tomorrow, then. I can only imagine the possibilities of shoveling horse manure and cleaning chicken coops with Shelby and Jewels...most likely none of us will be speaking to each other by the end of the day. That's okay, though -- I've become so enmeshed in the world of Sydney Bristow that contact with the real world scares me anyway.
I think I need serious help.