Of Textbooks and Allergies.

Well, fellow college attendees, it is that time of year again, Time once more to round up all your spare change for over priced caffeinated drinks and slightly wilted, over-dressed and over-priced Schatz's Bakery salads; time to wake up a 6:30 in the morning (it exists? still?!) and drag your half asleep self into a calculus class and ponder the greater what if's in life (specifically: what if Issac Newton got a hematoma from the apple and died? what class would I be feigning interest in then?); time to stay up too late (11pm) and feel like a knowledge zombie the next day (when people ask you what the paper you're clutching to your chest is about, you'll respond, with a glazed look, "BRAINS!").

Yes, it is time for a new semester.

Just thinking about it has me all in a dither. It feels like summer break has lasted about three days and that I am just now getting used to sleeping in again. Oddly enough, three weeks ago I found myself wishing school would come so I could please have something to do.

Be careful what you wish for.

Perhaps the most depressing part of this whole debacle is textbook shopping. It really make me long for the days of high school when the worst I had to endure was Ms. Hunt's accent to get my books, which were free unless I lost them or set them on fire. Now I am forced to pay $313.71 for glue and paper with tiny "smart" words written all over it. Worse still is that I know I will not be using half of my books more than 10% of the semester.

Oh, and did I mention that one of my SIX English texts was written by my English teacher? Not in the cool way either; it's not like this book is used 'round the country like Robin Russin texts. It's pretty much only at Mendo, which means this lady is either uber picky and snobby or an egomaniac. Lovely. Why do I always seem to have the best luck with English teachers? This is why I probably changed my major to Biology.

Enough of this dreary subject. For the past two-ish weeks, I have been babysitting two dogs and a cat. The experience has been comparable to watching three very needy children who follow you everywhere you go and scream whenever the wind blows without their say-so. I've been averaging about 5-6 hours of sleep a night because one dog licks incessantly while the other dog scratches itself every ten seconds, thumping the floor with his leg. Then the cat starts meowing like being outside the bedroom in utter torture; he gets progressively louder until, out of breath and pouty, he scratches at the bedroom door.

What have I learned from all this? I will never own a dog because their neediness makes me homicidal. Also, whatever the scratchy dog is allergic to/has I believe I am allergic to as well/have contracted, My scalp feels so itchy today it's as if there are about ten thousand fleas living beneath my skin. The more I itch it, the worse it gets, so I'm currently trying to ignore it by watching something more irritating--Doctor Oz. It's not going so well.