The last few weeks have swept through my life with all the force and fury of something quite forceful and furious. Ugh. I waste too much time trying to be all prose-y. I should treat this blog more like a free writing session. Remember those from elementary school where the teacher would write in gigantic perfectly formed hand writing a couple of inane topics on the board and you were supposed to write without ceasing for some ungodly amount of time- like 10 minutes or so? How did we ever survive basic primary education? The horror. I actually always liked free write time because I fancied myself something of a wordsmith in my youth. A skill that, as so many things in the life are akin to being, requires nearly constant practice and refining to maintain. How unfortunate. Early on, though, the trick is just to pick unique things to write about and no matter how terrible it is, the teacher will still likely find it more stimulating than the same text that they have read every year since the dawn of time. I love teachers. I wish I had become one. I always wanted to be a teacher until I realized that I didn't really like children much.

Anyway, so I've had a busy bit of life here. I'm gonna get real real and complain about my ongoing urinary tract infection. The one that will not quit. A very devoted and persistent strain of bacteria, really. Damn overachiever I've got. I'm almost done with my second round of antibiotics and it is still going strong. Apparently, it laughs in the face of danger. This is no mortal UTI. My next proposed treatment will be to either find and swallow handfuls of kryptonite or replace the whole urinary track with drinking straws and plastic baggies. Can anyone recommend a good surgeon for that who would be familiar with the process?

I would love to blog more, but I have to go take my antibiotic. Or, as I like to call it, the placebo.

What is this strange situation I am in? I'm so confused. I'm at my apartment, and it's Friday...usually a work day....I know I have work to do, but there is this force, stronger perhaps even that the pulse of life that beats through every moment....that is pulling me toward....nothing. Doing nothing. Doing nothing. It's beat fills my core. Doing nothing. Doing nothing. Doing nothing. What is this?

Something is coming to me...a hazy vision, mere shifting forms stretching out from the debts of my memory. A vague familiarity washes over me. I've been here before, in this situation. I know this place. The foggy vision comes closer, in sharper relief by the moment. Now it's clear. I have total understanding. I HAVE been here before. This is free time! I'm having free time! No pressure, no working, no drone of the everyday. Free time!

You would have thought I could figure this out, knowing that the holiday has been approaching for the last YEAR, and it came around last year too, and the year before that. I should have been prepared for the shock. Ah, free time.

Even as I typed "ah, free time" I breathed a little easier. Things have been biz-ee. I got all caught up with work and was doing really really well up until 2 weeks ago when I went back to home-sweet-home to see my friend's darling gassy baby and hang out with the most wonderful 4 Women of Independent Means that the world will ever know. Then last week boyfriend and I took an impromptu trip to New York over the weekend, which was delightful, but did nothing to help the work situation. So now I'm "celebrating" the extended July 4th weekend by doing NOTHING...at least for a few hours. And at some point I promise (myself) that I will catch up on all the work. Maybe.

There is nothing else of consequence to blog about at the moment, besides my inexpressible excitement over Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince movie coming out in a week and a half, to which I already have a ticket for the midnight show with boyfriend and two other great friends that share our obsession with the Boy Who Lived. Heh. I'm not ashamed!