Woke up early from disturbing dreams and just sort of laid around in half-sleep until 10. I don't like sleeping in so late, now that the world's starting to get up early again, but I've been really run down lately and figured I could use the rest. I think I've got the plague or something.
What I really, really want to do is go rollerblading on the tennis courts out in the field...but we got more snow last night and the courts are still pretty wet, despite the sun. I have to admit, my desire to leave my first few layers of skin on that court is pretty subdued at the moment.
More than anything, I want to go somewhere. Anywhere...I just need to get out of Moscow, out of Idaho. Tyler and Mike and I jumped in the car two weeks ago (Sunday) and drove down to McCall and back, which felt really good on the way down, but not so good on the way back. We bought fudge, but fudge only helps so much.
Spring break is coming soon...I was thinking about going to Flagstaff to look at NAU with Tyler, but now mom is laying the huge guilt trip on me about not wanting to come home. She and Dad are coming over this weekend to visit (Dad hasn't been here since he dropped me off in Aug 2000), and that's going to be cool, but still, I wish I could just pick up and go somewhere without having to feel bad about not being somewhere else. I do want to go home. I just don't want to sit around my house for a week when I could be seeing the redwoods in California or flying my kites on the coast. I want to grab some of my friends and drive off into the sunset in my car with a sunroof.
It's the wanderlust, folks, and I've got it bad.
Especially on days like this, when the world is wide open and the roads are infinite.
Which Star-Crossed Marvel Lover Are You?
But I won't right now (I'm not saying "can't"). Right now, I'm going to sign off, finish this paper, and then work on my genetics homework. And then I'll go to my energy class and a genetics review, and then probably sit around studying and wondering if Tyler will call.
Drat these nailed-down feet.
P.S. Drat this 120 degree house, too.
P.P.S. Why isn't Diane calling about Taylor Ranch?!? I want to know nowwwwwwwwwwwwwww.