Hoorah.

I'm done...

with Fall semester!

I turned in my final assignment this morning for one of my love-hate classes: cataloging. My professor thanked me for all of my hard work in her class.

Rewind.

What?

Yes - my professor thanked me for my hard work. Me. Madge! Wow. There's nothing like a "thank you" in my book - especially when it's least expected, or not expected whatsoever (as was the case here). I can never remember being personally thanked for my "hard work;" usually the students are giving the professors all of the kudos (and rightly so). This is something I will never, ever forget, especially because I worked my ass off. Just ask my boyfriend (or our dog, I guess): I have no ass no mo'.

I purchased a bottle of champagne immediately after work; I plan on drinking some bubbly quite soon. I have a trash-ola novel to begin reading: Prep, by Curtis Sittenfeld (after watching Love Story way too much over the weekend, my "negative social status" is in the mood for something "all Ivy"). When I close a semester, I am always fiction-hungry. So off I go to visually gobble-gobble my book, toast to three semesters left, and snuggle in my bed.

Life.is.good. (I swear, I don't own one of those hats.)