I had a dream about work last night in which I was in a class teeming with kids, and it was madness. I'd look up to see one group of kids with their phones out and when I was taking up their phones, I'd look up and see another group of kids with their MP3 players on and I'd have to go take those up, then I saw a trio of students with navigational systems and I had to go take those up, too. THEN, a couple boxes of pastries and donuts got delivered to my class and they were there for something, so I had to save them but the next time I looked, all these kids were eating them and I had to go up and down the aisle looking for marks of chocolate on their hands or faces or papers so I could write those kids up, and I ended up rubbing a chocolate covered cinnamon roll into one boy's face, kind of like a naughty puppy. Plus, the whole time I was trying to shout at the kids to lecture them or to, at the very least, get their attention, and my voice was gone. I could barely produce a whisper.
It was horrible.
And pretty easy to interpret.
Clearly, I am obsessed with the idea of protecting kids from childhood obesity.
Also, my pic update will come tomorrow, and I didn't really cook this weekend, unless you count my boyfriend (it feels weird to type that, but it's the proper name for the guy) cooking a fancy chicken breast stuffed with ricotta and spinach, while I took half the ingredients for a chocolate mousse and mixed them with some flour and an egg and threw it into the oven because how bad could it be? Turns out that the answer is pretty bad. It's still on my kitchen counter.
On second that, that totally counts as cooking.
Also, I've run a grand total of 6 more miles this week. At this rate, I'm only going to hit 300 miles by the end of the year. But you know what? I don't mind.
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