The midterm is thankfully over and my poor heart can rest after the adrenaline of beating wildly over the worried indecision of how Margery Kempe and Julian of Norwich used prose and why litotes influenced or did not influence the telling of Beowulf. I would mention more but I'm afraid it would surpass my opinion and give anybody else clues as to what horrors were encompassed within that small innocent-looking manilla envelope.
It is very very strange to be back on here again. The BLT--the Great Vespa--is . . . as he ever was, only he said things had been "swell" while I was gone. I hope it was only correlative and not causal. I would hate to think the world doesn't revolve around me. Enzo is as Enzo ever was but I wasn't here early enough to see the cornetti dragon and so my heart is broken as well as recovering from the adrenaline rush of an exam. Poor Enzo probably does not realise how precious he is to international bloggers. He must be the one constant in the world . . . Nobody has commented on my new sweatshirt yet and my conversation, my inner dialogue is becoming increasingly boring. I dislike it. I think I will check out a book from the Library.