Can you believe, I came out all this way (my study is attached to the garage so I have to go through the cold to get to it) just to see via my uni website what my maths homework was?

How funny is it that it takes me 7 weeks to get around to doing some homework. Only a week before we have an exam for the course.

Of course, the closest I'll probably get to doing the homework will probably be writing down the numbers of the exercises I should do, and then maybe, just maybe, opening the textbook.

It's sad but true that in my bizarro world that is equivalent to progress.

Can you believe, I woke poor little Shelley up just now via sms just to ask her if Xerxes was Persian?

Let's all tsk the Babs now.

Argh! I just counted the number of exercises and there are 18! 18! Like that is gonna happen. Should I even bother writing it down?

So much for progress...

I can't seem to juggle an education, a job, a social life, and family responsibilities with looking after my heart, head, and body. Which is odd I should think, everybody before me has done it, everyone around me is doing it, and everyone after me will do it...

Well, maybe not everyone. Many diarylanders perhaps automatically excluded. But most, you know, most...

Although if you wanted me to name them I couldn't. Maybe I could point? No... no...

So, some. At least one, definitely. And if that one happens to be reading now... can you please fill me in?

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