The More Things Change…

One score and three days ago my mother brought forth on this continent a tiny screaming baby girl…

The only perk about turning twenty is being able to call yourself, in a tone commemorative of our tall, honest, dead president, a score of years old.

School has officially begun in our home for the girls with online literature and math courses, morning routines with more than goat milking, and amusing readings of Gilgamesh. My semesters are currently overlapping as I am trying (and failing) to receive permission from three different schools to take six different exams in three different locations and substituting two discontinued exams from one school to courses from two schools, all while I enroll in a completely unrelated school and register for more courses.

Did you understand any of that? I didn’t.

All I can seem to think about is being outwitted by my mom’s newest organizational app. and the siren call of the dentist chair which must be faced after braving five miles of construction crews repaving the already narrow and dangerous highway.

Can I skip inconvenient days off and go back to weeding and Ayn Rand?




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