I haven't felt "sane" in about three months.
Even in that case, sanity is relative.
It will be enormously helpful to leave St. Petersburg this evening and drive to the house, at which point I will collapse on my pillow-lockdown of a bed and finish reading the remaining two hundred pages of Going After Cacciatto.
Woot. Sounds like fun.
In total honesty, I need to read. I haven't detached myself from reality enough in the last few months, and hopefully, a last minute novel cram will provide relative distraction.
I'm trying to think of a list of five things I need to do for myself before school is once again commenced and dominates my existence.
I've yet to make any progress on that list. I'll let you know when I figure something out.
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