I can already see it, this month is going to be full of deadline drama. Already, on Sunday, there was a brilliant piece of time management that encouraged me to make a little schedule. I love making schedules, I just rarely ever follow them. Do you think I could get away with it if I called myself a free-spirit? Nah, I didn’t think anyone would buy that either. But you know what, I may not have to plead anything. On Monday I heard a very edifying message and proceeded to check off all the assignments for the day. I was so happy. And bored. Goodness, it’s hard to find something to do when you’re not avoiding work.
Today has been slightly less productive, and a great deal colder. I’ve been listening to Pandora all day. I have it seeded with the Partridge Family, so it’s playing lots of things from the sixties. I’m surprised by how many of these songs I know, how many of them I grew up listening to. At any rate, between “Can’t you hear my heart beat” and the bright, cold day, I’m moving a lot slower than I did yesterday. But the end is in sight, if only I had a little incentive. Unfortunately, I just ate my last square of Chocolate shortbread. Oh yes, I made another batch of it on Saturday (“S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y!” – that’s another song Pandora keeps playing). A friend came over, and ten minutes into Singin’ in the Rain she turns to me and says “Do you want to bake something?” An hour later we were eating Chocolate shortbread with spoons, it was warm and mushy and screamed “Get me some vanilla ice cream!” In this selfish, mellow mood, I’m thinking I shouldn’t have let her leave with half the batch.
The obvious fix is to make more, but I think once a week is probably already over doing things. To add lemon juice to this paper cut, I also downed the last of my milk. Oh milk, so sweet, and full, and smooth. Sometimes I get milk and it’s milk, sometimes I get milk and it’s something masquerading as milk, and then there are the times when I get milk and it’s white ambrosia. This half gallon was like that, cold as steel and sweet as sugar. The weird thing is, I always buy whole milk. How can it be so different each time?

P.S. Yes, more photos of Japan! I’m araid that’ all you’ll be getting for a while, gomennasai ( ごめんなさい：sorry).

P.P.S Oops! I guess that burst of productivity didn’t last too long. Look how manny days it’s taken me to publish this post!