Struggles

Many of our faithful readers may have been concerned by the lack of posts of late, but I would like to assure all of you that I am alive and well, though my soul is slowly being sucked out of me through PA school. (Pray for me.) So to catch you up on all that has happened in the past few months, I thought I would give you a photo slideshow. Unfortunately, precious little has happened outside of studying, so the slideshow will be brief. Just one photo.



My roommates find my method of studying fairly entertaining, so I thought I would share it with all of you reading at home. Yes, this photo depict me on a step stool staring at my wall. But fear not, PA school has not derailed my psyche so much that I interact with inanimate objects. Nay, if you look closer, the wall is covered in study guides detailing the intricacies of diagnostic technologies and treatment plans for just about anything that could go wrong with your kidneys or urinary tract. I typically make these guides, then tape them to the wall so that I can see everything at the same time. It helps to compare things, get the big picture. But while my roommates laugh at me, one of my professors who is studying me for his Master's in Education called my method similar to those that geniuses employ. It wasn't long after walking around the apartment referring to myself as the live-in genius before Megan said, "Yes, Monica, but most serial killers are also geniuses." Fair.


Now this particular evening was not only epic for the amount of studying that occurred, but because of the true disaster that occurred while trying to heat up a simple snack. All I wanted was some popcorn, you know, to keep me going into the night. But while my mind was on kidney stones and boggy prostates, it clearly overlooked two essential mechanisms specific to the making of popcorn in our microwave. #1 Our microwave may or may not be nuclear powered and #2 I had bought those cute 100 calorie packs of popcorn last time at the store (in accordance with my half-assed Weight Watchers). In the end what happened was I put my mini bag in the microwave for the same amount of time I would a normal bag. Then I turned on the faucet to wash dishes while it cooked, not hearing the pops slow to a stop after, you know, probably 30 seconds. No, for two solid minutes that popcorn popped, baked, carcinogenized and nearly caught on fire. And what was once my biggest pet peeve (burning popcorn) was now my own greatest failure. It was truly a personal low. Naturally I took it out of the microwave, smoking, and threw it out on the porch. I shut the kitchen door so that the smell would not dissipate to the remaining rooms of our apartment. And on a 30 degree evening, our backdoor was open completely for over four hours, without much improvement. I am telling you that I mutilated this popcorn. It was no average burn. Significant fumigation continued the next day, and eventually the odor has disappeared. Thankfully my roommates mostly thought it was funny (mostly) but it has taken awhile to walk away from the shame.

A view from the porch. WHYYYYYYY?????

Taking responsibility for what I did.

And so we press on. It's almost Thanksgiving, so hopefully that will mean time for more blogging, but in the mean time, keep reading and remember that no snack, no matter how delicious, is worth ruining the nasal passages of those you live with.