Turdsday

Thurrrrrrrsday. The word sends shivers of dread down my spine. Always has. This day of the week reminds me that I am but one day away from my beloved Fancy Friday. I'd be ready for the weekend if Thursday weren't in the way.

I have all my evil classes this day, too. Four of them, eighty minutes each. Chemistry. PreCalc (well, that class isn't nearly as bad). Theological Themes in Literature. And the joy of every sophomore's existence: Modern European History. The offspring of Death and the Holy Roman Empire that seems to have sprung forth from the very depths of Hell itself. I do not exaggerate. Not in the slightest.

Pardon the complaints. You may have to gird yourself for more of those cropping up in the future.

At the moment I am listening in awe to Regina Spektor's "Soviet Kitsch" album. Tis one that I'll run through multiple times every month or so. It gives me the same unique, tingly feeling every time I hear it. It's good music to sing when I'm feeling like Luna Lovegood.

The one good thing about Thursday: it means that tomorrow is...yup...FRIDAY. With tomorrow come snacks in Advisory, Swing Choir class, dress rehearsal for my favorite project EVER, and a chance to see who's left out of the most wonderful theater people in the world during Charlotte's Webb auditions. That means Jumper. SCORE.

Thursday night just got a whole lot better, y'all.