Fire Trucks and a New Semester

I'm almost 30 years old, and I'm getting ready for school to start. Still.

I've done my school supply shopping-- a box of purple pens and a legal pad to take lecture notes and a copy of Leopard I borrowed from my dad and am going to install as soon as I finish this post-- and I am excited to be teaching a brand new class this semester.

I actually can't complain because I have an awesome schedule. Monday and Wednesday mornings, I will attend the lecture for the class I teach and will be home hours before noon. Tuesdays, I teach from nap time through dinner, and Thursday afternoons I have office hours, time to write, and a rhetoric colloquium. Harry and I have plenty of time to go to the gym everyday, and Fridays, we only have Little Gym to occupy our time. Not too shabby, huh?

Still, I am sad that break is over, even though I was pretty damn busy this past month, writing a chapter and working on another project. I will miss lazy mornings in my pj's, working out whenever I felt like it, and spending almost every waking moment with Harry.

I won't miss changing every poopy diaper that needed to be changed between 7:45 and 5:00, the 3:30 meltdown that occurs almost every afternoon (although I'll still be home for this most days), and never peeing with the door closed.

On the room front (something I'll work on in my writing this semester: transitions), check out these awesome antique fire trucks we got from Harry's grandparents:

Ah, when fire fighters were men and horsepower was from horses.

So tomorrow the semester begins...and hopefully ends before McLovin makes his entrance. Keep your fingers crossed, and I'll cross my legs.