It's funny what an impediment to the flow of your day a summer class can be. Four days a week I drive 20 miles to school for a two hour Spanish course. For that kind of sacrifice, I might as well just go on a bicycle in the blistering heat of summer, allotting time for getting lost, of course, then just trying to find the strength to pedal it to the beautiful oasis ahead, and then I get there and realize that what thought was an oasis was in fact MEXICO. Which would be infuriatingly convenient.
Aside from the cost in terms of gas, time, and homework, I have a feeling that Spanish 231 is going to leave me cold and alone as well. This weekend and all next week is my family's 19th annual vacation to South Padre Island--we also usually visit Mexico while we're down there--so I want you to consider how I feel about giving my bed to my cousin's friend Alesha. True, last year I slept on an air mattress while she took the trundle, which technically means that she will have taken a bed that I could have slept in twice in a row, but I can find solace in the fact that I will be sleeping in my own bed next week--my own washed, full, downy covers. Crying myself to sleep in Spanish.
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