Dreams of Chalk (not Sarah from Scrubs)

I found myself confused earlier today as I knew I had found my chalk for my blackboard. Nope, realized that was a dream. I remember in my dream being very annoyed because I found my chalk in a place I've already looked several times. My dreams have been strange lately. When not about trivial things like chalk, they're about class. I rarely wake up feeling rested anymore. This makes me very excited for Spring Break in five days as I know I will get some good sleep during that time. Well, I mean, I'm sure I'll wake up at least once in a panic thinking I've missed class, but that's not really the point.

Also need to give a shout out to my dad. I thought of him today as I met with Abby at Katie's for some frozen custard and a hot dog. I decided to get relish on my hot dog this time and I am now convinced my father needs to come eat at this establishment as the green color of the relish is something I've never seen before. If he loves airport neon relish, he will be blown away by this relish. I can't even begin to describe the uniquely unnatural neon color that was on my hot dog. It was intense. It was good.

I've managed to make it through the weekend without ruining my nails, but I am very excited to see Kim on Saturday and give my nails some love. I was very pleased to have someone tell me how great they look. They were astonished that my nails are acrylic (First week of school promptly killed my natural nails that I'd worked hard on). So it looks like I need to pick up some business cards while I'm in town next weekend.

Week 4 begins tomorrow. We shall see what unfolds. Mr. Monkey is suffering. Never before in his carrier has he had so much filing to do. He's hopeful that he can get it all caught up over Spring Break and still have time to sit in his leather chair, book in one hand and frozen drink in the other for a few hours. This weekend his plans to do nothing before 1pm were smashed. With the kind of backlog going on right now, there's no rest for the mildly wicked.

The Chickens seem to be unable to recoup from the recent trauma. Seems the past few days the shoot from which the incoming filing comes went a little crazy. The one chicken who managed to get out of the cage was beat repeatedly in the head with incoming files as they flew down the shoot and off the top of the giant pile in Mr. Monkey's in-box. The other chickens waiting to follow the first from the hole in the cage (cut with wire cutters naturally. Mr. Monkey is looking into how they managed to get hold of wire cutters) stared, shocked as chicken number one was beaten. All were so stunned, none could move. Finally a fellow chicken came to and pulled the first chicken back into their cage (I don't know how this was done without hands or fingers). They have remained there since, cringing a little each time a file lands near their cage.

And so it is.