Seriously, with Thai Basil and Brothers BBQ at my fingertips, what is the point of cooking? I take back the post from earlier this week. Why do I feel like I need to cook for myself? Nutrition, cost. But really, is dining out that bad?
I’m exhausted. It’s hitting that full-time work + full-time school is going to be really, really tough. In theory it’s doable, but in actuality… I’ll do it, but it’s not going to be all that much fun. And add a boyfriend (I think)… The already dwindling social life is even harder to keep up with.
Reading: very little. Not for pleasure, not for class, which has been aided by having the week off of class (MLK Day, professor’s jury duty). Not even reading my RSS feeds… No controversial issues to discuss.
Watching: Little Miss Sunshine. For the third time. I love it.
Sorry, dear reader(s). This is like a weird journal. Or something.