Well, the good thing about not having class tonight is it gives me an extra week to try and figure out exactly what I'm doing. The bad news is, I couldn't nab a tutor, and I couldn't sit with my professor and ask him what the actual fuck is going on with my homework. The most frustrating thing is I feel like I SHOULD be getting this. I look at it, and my brain tells me I understand for a fleeting moment, and then I try to do a problem and it all wooshes right out of my head, and I have to fight the urge to feed my book to a paper shredder.
I've decided to focus on my accounting homework for now, because that's twenty thousand times simpler for my poor, addled brain. I have an essay response question to do for English, and some reading to do, but that can wait.
I had a conversation with my dad today on my way home from getting my nails done (they do look lovely), and I told him that I thankfully have two classes that I don't even have to try in, which makes my actual courseload so much easier. I told him about my paper being chosen last semester, and how my professor asked me to become an English tutor, and how I barely even tried and I still had the highest grade in my class. My dad said I should consider changing my major, and I told him that it'd be a useless degree for me, unless I decide to teach, and honestly I'd rather be shot than have to trudge through shitty paper after shitty paper. It'd be very similar to Bad Teacher...I'd just be scrawling ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME in red ink. Everywhere.
My very, very, very loved rat died on Wednesday morning. I went to let my boys out, and Brisby was huddled in the corner. Brisby was always SO excited to see me, and he'd run up to the cage door and wait patiently for me to open it up, and then he'd hop right on my shoulder and nuzzle me. He didn't even move when he saw me, so I knew something was wrong. I scooped him up very carefully, and left Andes and Bullet in their house. Brisby and I went and sat on the couch together, and I petted him and loved on him, and bawled my fucking ass off. He kept trying to crawl off of me, and I figured he was trying to find a private place to die. I put him in the hood of my hoodie (that was one of his favorite places to hang out), grabbed a box, and put a shirt of mine in it. I placed him in there very carefully, and laid down on the couch with my head right next to the box. I sang to him and told him I loved him very much. I heard him thrash about, and then he did his best to run out of the box and into my lap, but he couldn't make it on his own, he fell, I grabbed him up, and then he died. I'm fairly convinced he had a stroke. It wrecked my day. He was my very first rat, and my favorite little buddy. I buried him with Bunny. Last night, when I was loving on Andes and Bullet (who both seem very out of sorts), I noticed a big lump in Bullet's throat. When it rains it fucking pours. I'll have to take him to the vet next week, and I won't be surprised if that visit ends with having to put him down.
In better news, and speaking of next week, I have an insanely busy schedule. Monday and Tuesday is work and school, Wednesday is my Business HRM conference then school, Thursday and Friday is school, and then Saturday and Sunday is no work, but hospice orientation.
We've gotten about five inches of snow already. Possibly more. I don't have a good eye for this sort of thing.
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