Is it wicked not to care?

Do you know what I realized on today's grouchy, blustery, Monday-morning ride to school? 2 weeks til' Reading Week, baby. If I can survive past this Wednesday, I can make it until the end. And while I may not be flying off to tropical locales or even locales with more than 400 residents, I am taking a road trip with my favourite cousines and mi madre up to the sleepy town of Benito, whose old-timey charm and sweet exterior is only magnified by the vicious gossips peering out from behind lace-chintz curtains. Let's see if I can hold my head up after my last visit while still giving them all something to talk about...

In other news: I went out on a date Saturday night. I was just complaining to my sister last week how casual dating has all but disappeared, replaced by the notion that if you ask someone to coffee, suddenly you're courting and essentially engaged. And if not, then you're obviously promiscuous. Maybe that's only in Baptist circles.

Anyways, I was blown away by how clichéd the asking part was. While the words were struggling to climb from his mouth, I had very maturely covered the receiver with my hand and was giggling spasmodically. I didn't think it actually happened like that in real life. The date itself was surprisingly unawkward and extremely enjoyable. But a Round 2 would have to be firmly placed in "Friends Only" territory. A dating relationship at this point is just not worth ruining a beautiful biochem friendship over.