Something Up With Which I Will Not Put

President's Choice pistachios are packed in a resealable bag.

Ha.

How to spot an English teacher:

I just mixed my White Russian with a pencil.

Classes ended Tuesday!!

I just submitted final marks for one of my four courses.

Long-time readers will know what I mean when I say - tell the dog to start warming up.

So I can't use my wireless mouse at home because Heidi sits between the mousepad and the receiver and blocks the signal with her big furry butt.

So the good news is that I submitted the last of my final grades this afternoon.

The bad news is that I cannot, technically, breathe, thanks to the cold my body has elected to spring upon me, now that I have time to be sick.

The middling news is that I officially have two back-up sections of continuing education for the winter semester. I won't know my real fate until after registration in the second week of January.

In the meantime, however, I'll be concentrating on holiday baking, cooking, catching up on laundy, and knitting a whackload of last-minute presents (and yes, "whackload" is indeed the collective noun for last-minute presents)...

...Oh, and researching and writing a literature review for my M.Ed. course...

...and blowing my nose.

Stupid sinuses.

A dead bat in your trifle bowl, that's what.