Sunday morning I woke up and tried to speak. What came out of my mouth sounded like a cross between the spawn of Satan and what I imagine I would sound like if I had been smoking for 80 years. In a word, it was nasty. You see ladies and gentlemen, I haven’t been sick all semester. Me, the person who always has some type of cold or virus, sore throat or whatever else you can get, I always have it. I had been so so good up until Monday.
So yeah, that just made me really happy. Currently I have the voice of a smoker but can breathe so I consider it a decent trade. Plus I actually was able to sleep lying down instead of having to sleep sitting up.
Today in Italian my teacher came in like normal, except that she was 15 minutes late and I’m pretty dang sure she was timing it because she knows that if it is any longer than 15 minutes the students can walk out. So being the devil that she is she waited until the very last second to walk into class. (Francesca if you read this please note that I am being sarcastic and I love you so very much)
Now you have to understand my Italian teacher Francesca. I love her to death but she also scares the crap out of me and quite frankly she is the only reason I am working so hard in her class. Although it doesn’t show it and I know that when she is grading my tests she wants to slap my face and ask why I don’t get it, she doesn’t. That alone deserves a medal.
You see, Francesca isn’t your normal teacher, she has tattoos all over her body and half of the semester is spent learning about how Axl Rose is amazing and how she wants to marry Tommy Lee Jones. I kid you not, I even started to write an essay about her love for Axl on one of our tests. Yes, I was trying to be a suck up. Anyway, the more I get to know her the more fascinated I am but also truly scared. She is a passionate Italian that is barely 5ft tall but somehow managed to pin a woman to the wall. (she tells us these stories in class like they are no big deal, NO FRANCESCA, THEY ARE A BIG DEAL)
Apparently she resigned. BAM. She just walked in and stated it like it was something you do every semester before finals. Completely blew my mind. She was so laid back about it I thought she was joking or was incredibly high on some kind of drug. I was leaning towards the drug part but then I realized she was so relieved that she actually was on a high from her brain.
I’m not exactly sure why I went into such great detail about this but I did and you read it up to this point so now it’s your issue.
The rest of my week looks like this: Friday- stop day, drive down to Wichita, get my car worked on, get ready for a wedding. Saturday-Wedding from 7:30-11:30 that I am shooting. Sunday-drive up to Lawrence at 6 am and then study.
I’m tired already.