Man, Remembering Stuff on Mondays is Hard

So I was finally finishing up reading the Pictures and Words that are Published on the Internet for the day, silenting berating various Authors for being late today. Then I was considering taking my iPod and yarn and curling up into bed until I fall asleep, safe in the knowledge that I don't have to get up until 9 tomorrow.

Then it hit me. I am worse than the authors I berate, because I completely forgot about this obligation of mine, this blog, which does not take any holidays, not even Sundays or MLKJr Day.

Good thing I have a planner full of notes of things to write about, or else I would be ending this blog right here.

Green pen tells me that I slept in until 7 today due to incredible scheduling luck. Red pen recorded a beautiful gem from English class: "Unemployed people, cheer up! No longer must you define yourselves through your work! Now you can take up new hobbies! Try jogging! It is free!" (A better version of this requires context to establish all that stuff, and the punchline is simply "Unemployed people, cheer up! You can go jogging!")
Dark blue pen lets me know how much I appreciated the warmth of the sun in Reli, while we talked about people's inner snakes and the first murder and I didn't pay attention because the sun was coming through the window so very nicely.
I had a free period and a lunch break during which I walked to Schwabi with some people and then walked back to school (food was bought at Schwabi), but, unfortunately, there was no interesting conversation to be had either in free period or at lunch break. Or at least nothing of interest for recording now.
Light green pen says I Heart DNA, because I do, and then there is a purple note about it being MLKDay and about there being 8 days until Mid-Year. I wanted to eat a Milka bar for MLK, but when I went to Müller (in Hochzoll, having cut out my walk through Aichach because Babsi got her license and was very happy to drive me to the train. . . I love Mondays because Babsi and I always ride the train together and have the best conversations. She loves to hear my stories about America, so I tell her about how Ukrop's sells out of bread and milk when they predict snow, and how we never have to worry that a teacher will drill us on last class's lesson, and how I miss black people. And we compare learning to drive stories and talk about music and tv and it is just plain awesome.) I was talking about going to Müller for chocolate. So I went in to get a Milka Marzipan bar, because they are my favorite. I'd never been in this Müller before, so I had to search a bit, and then I was very disappointed to find not a single Milka Marzipan. They had RitterSport Marzipan though, and since I was jonesing for almondy goodness, I gave up on my pretend relation to one of America's foremost civil rights people and bought the candy bar. Then I waited for the bus in the cold because I am super-lazy today (meaning I did not want to walk home) and as I approached the door, I heard loud classical music pouring from the neighbor's house. I was puzzled, until I opened the door. I was greeted by Piff practicing drums, apparently something like thirty-second notes today, or maybe just play as super-super fast as you can. I nearly recognized something like rhythm, then I gave up. I immediately took myself to my third floor room, where the distance between me and him (in the basement) plus a closed door muffled the sound enough for thought.

German Who Wants to be a Millionaire is not as cool because Regis is a German named Günther, and the questions require knowledge of the German language, meaning I cannot answer them at all. It is still fun to watch, and I got to have a moment of triumph in proving to Piff that there are approximately 30, not 40, centimeters in an inch.

I don't have to leave for school until 9:30 tomorrow. I thought I would reitirate this point, because it makes Piff very jealous, and you should be jealous, too.