Blogging is fun. Do you know what is not fun? My cat is stalking me, there is not normal (and by normal I mean not coconut milk) ice cream in my freezer, and the five hours of homework ahead of me don't shine quite as brightly as the newest episode of Desperate Housewives just a click away. Oh, and Brothers and Sisters is also available. That's only three hours, plus the fifteen minutes it takes me to talk myself into procrastinating. Yes, I have to talk myself into procrastination. And then I procrastinate about completely procrastinating. Meaning I'll half-heartedly open my books and get out a sheet of notebook paper, title it with my name and date, and then sit there silently contemplating my options. How cool is my life? My suitcase isn't unpacked, I gave away all my amazing NYC stuff to my family in a fit of generosity, and my life is suddenly angst-free. It's so boring to be angst-free. I might have to start doing something actually productive, which would not be amusing at all.