All in the Fullness of Time

When I was almost half way through grade 12, I was informed that despite stellar grades and an unnecessary number of academic credits, I was not going to graduate because I had misinterpreted what counted as an “applied skill.”  So in the second semester, I dropped whatever I’d been planning to take (History, maybe?) and registered for Foods and Nutrition.

At the time, I was pissed off about it, because I took school very seriously, but it ended up great.  It was a super easy class, I got a Food Safe certificate for taking it (necessary if you want any kind of food services job in my hometown), I learned possibly the only practical things I learned in all of high school, and on double-block Wednesdays, I’d have banana bread or whatever to share with my friends at lunch.

Progress!

We are basically finished with this whole moving in and figuring out where everything goes and making everything look wonderful so our home will be a haven of peace and tranquility and overall amazingness process.

Projects that are now done:

The boxes are staring at me. And I think they’re judging me too.

In the middle of our floor, between the living room and the dining room, is a large pile of cardboard boxes.  They are something of an eyesore, yes, but more than that, they are clear evidence of a big huge project that has yet to be begun.  We brought these boxes home last night and the plan is that we will put all of our things in them.  It’s daunting.  I look at them and I feel daunted.  And taunted.  I’m pretty sure the boxes are judging me for letting them sit in the middle of the room and not doing anything with them.