shaky foundations indeed

My head is spinning and I know by morning it will ache. My roommates have called a roommate meeting for 8pm tomorrow to sign the roommate contract, and I dread having the thermostat permanently stuck at 70. If it is, however, I have my parents' permission to search for new housing, because living sick is extremely detrimental to both my grades and my sanity.

I dread confrontation.

I haven't painted in days, nor sketched, nor written. A test looms on the morrow, and another the day after, and a quiz the day after that. On the horizon a blissful Saturday of football beckons, but the treacherous stretch I must endure on the way precludes me from anticipating it more than in a snatched moment of prayer.

My throat is already tightening. I should've brought sweats from home this weekend.

There are far too many St. Benedicts. There are far too many saints, and not enough time to study them all. So Benedict of Aniane was a favorite of the Carolingian and a key man in the sweeping Benedictine Reform of Charlemagne...and St. Benedict, the obscure Italian abbott wrote his Benedictine Rule based off of the Rule of the anonymous Master...but what did Benedictine Biscop do? I can't remember. Who was the great man of Jarrow? Wileth? I can't remember either.

I dread tomorrow.

There is still a horrid mark on the back of my leg from wearing my knee brace two weekends ago. I say that you grow used to pain, but when it shifts constantly, it becomes more difficult to ignore.

Bedtime - they say there is no rest for the weary, but if I can't sleep within the hour I'll resort to my trusty friend Tylenol PM to rest myself somewhat adequately.
Adieu...