Thursday, August 7, 2014

Sneaky sneaky August

Finally at the end of the summer semester.
Well, almost. Next Monday and Tuesday are a mix of reviews and finals.
But as far as class time goes, it's over.

I was sort of expecting that everything else was going to finish up, too. Once classes were done, then I was free from responsibility and whatnot.

What? I still have to call the insurances to set up payment plans? Isn't it a given that a 20 year old isn't going to pay $34910800 for prenatal appointments in 2 weeks?
How are these cupboards empty? I'm pretty sure we bought groceries, like, 3 months ago.


The Visiting Teacher District Supervisor called me on Sunday to ask if my assigned companion and I reached out to some women in the ward. (In our church, we are asked to "visit teach" or make home visits with other church members on a monthly basis) Actually, she called Taylor. Our relief society has had a challenge in securing my personal cell number. Never mind that I text and call them from my phone on a monthly basis ;)

Anyway, she asked me if I had been "able to visit with any of the women last month". I was about to tell her I was going to schedule July's appointments that afternoon, when her words suddenly came back. 

Last month?


My "planner", who has been sacked for 
not doing its job.

Guys, it's August already. As of today, it's been August for an entire week. Did you realize that? I didn't. Even though I've been typing in August dates over and over on my final essays since last weekend, it hadn't actually occurred to me that July was over. Done. Forever lost in history.

One of my favorite bloggers often says she's "flying by the seat of her pants". I like the expression, because I think it'd be nice to be able to fly anywhere without needing to stand. (Except I could do without wearing pants) Maybe we'd be able to keep up with what day it actually is, too.

Taylor's semester actually finished a little while ago (I have no idea if it was in July or August), and he's pretty darn happy about that. I'm happy, too. That man needs a break from working so hard. He's too young for wrinkles. He's mentioned peach pie a couple times lately, so if anyone has a good recipe, send it my way. I think he deserves a slice or two. The women I was supposed to visit would probably also enjoy some as well. Not to mention Baby Girl always wants pie. Always.

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