Class Cancelled!

One of my classes for today has been cancelled. Even though I have a variety of options to fill my newly opened 1.5 hour, for example with plagiarizing books, stealing silverware, breaking windows, or shooting snotty boogers at people, I have chosen to sit down and describe in great length how ill I am, because that is what I did all weekend, and by now I am pretty good at this.

Actually, maybe I should spare you. But just as a reminder, I have given myself free license to do this because I am rarely sick and everyone else who is sick all the time is always talking about it. Like that one girl in my art history class who doesn't hesitate to tell everyone in earshot that she's had a cold for 3 months.

I'll just mention that this particular cold has left my right ear plugged for what seems to be an indefinite amount of time. This is particularly inconvenient in a larger class when we're asked to sign up for something at the front of the room and I'm the only one who doesn't move in the long row of people because I have no idea what's going on. But it is particularly convenient in blocking out the roaring blare of my own ignorant, poorly worded comments in Spanish class, which brings me around to what we were reading over the weekend: an account of a Spaniard in America during the 16th c. who had the unusual ability of healing people by just waving his hand over them. So while I was sitting in the library sniffling through my book, I thought about how nice it would have been to be in one of those natives that Spaniard cured, running wild and naked through a rainforest. Which, actually, is not a far cry from the lifestyle I lead now.

No, let me instead focus on the delicious dinner Kat Scanlon cooked for Julie, Mary Kate, and I, and how all I contributed was a salad, in which I slaved over the cutting of cheese and tomatoes. All I managed to eek up was a salad. No stove or oven required. Thank God I didn't make an omelette.

This momentous realization led me to decide that this Saturday, for Julie's birthday, I will cook up a 19 course meal in which every food will be very French and very impronouncable, and in which every item of food will grow in size. So that means the first course will be about the size of a plate, and we'll slowly increase the scale until the 19th course is the size of a house. This might just mean that Julie will be getting 19 variaties of omelettes, which I CAN DO, or that I will indeed be cooking much.

And it might never happen. And it might just be smores or sandwiches. But if it happens, it will be stupendous! Marvelous! Terrific! Out of this world! It will be...*achoo*...SUBLIME!