You know what else is ironic? Attending one's high school reunion. (and also that high school is two words.) I felt like I was getting ready for the first day of school. I had a panic attack over what to wear like nothing I've seen for at least 12 years, well, since the first day of 7th grade. (I'm exaggerating. I wasn't that worried over my outfit, but I had no idea what to expect. First day of 7th, on the other hand. THAT is no exaggeration my friend. 7th grade is no joke, either; talk about anxiety.) The good news is that I survived and even enjoyed the event. I had no awkward encounters, which stems solely from the fact that I dated people in the grade ahead. As discussing this fact with an old friend, I added this piece of important advice to the list handed down from my mom, to be handed down to baby girl: Don't date in your own class so as to make the class reunions less awkward.
This advice follows "Don't forget it's really slick right after it starts raining" and also "If you get kidnapped, let your kidnapper shoot you before getting into the car with them." Terrifying, right?
I ended up posting nonsense again. I hope posting nonsense doesn't always lead to horrific natural disasters.
I'm scared to turn on the TV now.
I'm being forced to read.
i.e. eat cobbler (which, in itself is another post, as far as how this cobbler came into being)