Home, Interrupted

There was a TICK on my ARM. A TICK. On my ARM. MY. ARM. At home! At my Fortress of Ticklessness! (That looks like I'm saying tickleness. Ticklessness. Huge difference.)

I have only ever had a tick on me once before and it was in Colorado. And it was horrible. And this was also horrible. Horrible horrible horrible. But at least this one didn't have its head in yet. It was just sitting there on my arm. I could see its legs. But I still had to get mom to pull it off. Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh

I hate ticks more than scorpions, which is good, because scorpions are more likely to end up in my bed. Not kidding. Overall ratio of scorpion bites in bed to tick attacks in bed: 3:0. Overall ratio of scorpion bites to tick attachments: 4:2. Overall ratio of scorpion encounters v. tick encounters: about even; prolly 100:100. Scorpions lived in my closet for a while, and now they tend to haunt the shower (meaning I have to look down every point eight three seconds, approximately, while I'm shampooing). Also they crawl on the ceiling. And the walls. And the floors. And the drains. And the laundry room. Ticks just live on the dogs. I'm really good at finding them because they freak me out so much that I want to get rid of them. I HATE ticks. Hate hate hate.

Moving on.

I'm back in College Station right now. I did ridiculously well on my bio final (98!), got an A on my last rhetoric paper, and discovered that I have made a 100 on every mythology quiz I've taken this year. I am so full of myself right now, you have no idea. Mythology final still to come. Saturday: shopping. Sunday: back to Austin/study for myth. Monday: final/pack room. Tuesday: move out of Kinsolving 321 by 9 AM, move in to Kinsolving 287 at 4 PM. I really don't mind the seven hours of driving around Austin with my stuff. There are currently boys living in my new room. I know, gross, right? Cooties! And it's a connecting bath, so I hope it gets really thoroughly cleaned.

Here's the place all UT students living on campus should know about: Kerbey Lane. If you don't know what I'm talking about, listen up. This place is the God of Food on the Drag. It's open 24/7, has the best queso in the history of the universe, and also makes fawesome desserts. I've only ever eaten there at 2 AM or later. I generally have scrambled toast and French eggs. Wait. Scrambled eggs and French toast. Ooh, now I want to invent scrambled toast.

Currently Reading:
The Host by Stephenie Meyer