I’m still working on getting myself to get together to go back to school still, and I’d better get on it because classes start on the thirtieth of this month. That’s like, crap, only eleven days (and maybe really more like ten since it’s after six p.m.). The easy part is the the University of Cincinnati has both an online catalog AND an online registration process. The bad part is that I don’t know what I’m doing and the only person I can ask is Jeeves. The good part is that I can take a bunch of classes and probably fulfill all my requirements lickety split! But the bad part is that I don’t exactly know what is going to satisfy that she-devil Joan who won’t return my calls to the Kent advising office and garner for me my shiny new degree. So it’s all good, and bad, really.

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So my old boss called me this afternoon and asked me to come in to cover the overnight shift tonight. Fine. Great. Wonderful.

And she also asked me to take the same tomorrow because the woman who usually comes in is in the hospital and no one knows when she might be released. Fabulous. Super. Happy to oblige.

And after work I have an interview at Kristen’s mom’s workplace. Fantastic. Cool. Bring it.

And when I get to work there’s a knock down drag out fight over whether or not the door should be left open in one of the rooms, futher complicated by a language barrier and stressing the already taut nerves of a group of domestic violence survivors. Manageable. Pithy. Taken care of.

And I’m sitting up in the early morning hours, chugging a 20 oz. Diet Coke and playing Text Twist on Yahoo.com, when my sister calls and asks me, So, how’s school going?

Anxiety. Panic. Disaster.

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That’s the name of a class I took in college, and the one in which I fell in love with the childish poetry of Stevie Smith and the extra-ordinary stories of Alice Munro. I invoke it’s title to remind myself of the first blush of desire that precedes a good old fashioned book lust.

So I’m off Simon and on to modern classic literature. My sister was kind enough to accompany me to the Half Price Book Store this afternoon and help me peruse the A-D aisle for a sampling of Adams, Balzac, Collins, and DeLillo, to name a few. I even procured a copy of A Clockwork Orange, which I’m already almost certain I’m going to hate.

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Which it turns out is not that far when it comes to biking.

Yes, believe it, I bought a new bike last night! And after riding it today for about three and a half seconds, my legs were so worn out I could barely stand up to get off the thing. OMG, IHM! But the good news is that if I keep it up I’ll be able to ride for five seconds next time, and eventually I may even be able to work up to a whole minute. It’s gonna be awesome.

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