(with all due respect) D-Day

D is for donuts, dicussion, and dead birds. D-day began with my biology seminar. The dead birds were stuffed and preserved, and we did spectrophotometric analysis on their plumage. My British professor thought it would be funny to bring in a dead parrot. It was.

D is for duo. Had my first GLBT support group meeting today. I was one of two people to show, and the other one was a guy I already knew. Which was actually kinda cool. There are also two therapists (well, one therapist and one therapist-in-training) who will be "moderating" the group. Next week we should have two more guys joining us, but I will still be the sole representative of the XX camp.

D is for dental hygeine. I felt gross all day due to the fact that I couldn't brush my teeth this morning because Louie stole my toothbrush off the bathroom counter and stowed it under my bed last night. While it was hilarious to see him trotting through my bedroom, my toothbrush clasped between his teeth, it was less funny when I realized I didn't have a spare.

D is DAMMIT, THERESA! She showed up an hour-and-a-half late for our pow-wow at the coffee shop.

D is for dirty laundry. I have a MASSIVE pile of it in my closet. I really need to do some laundry, but I don't have the time!

D is for dill havarti. I ate a HALF A POUND of it today. I am so far out of control!

D is for Dr. Pepper Jelly Bellies. I stocked up for my paper-writing tonight.

D is for damp kitten. I got back from class today to find that my roommate had left the bathroom door open and the toilet lid up. And Louie had gone for a swim.

D is for Dad. He called me this evening! He remembered I exist! Yay!

D is for disappointment. Am determined to get over old Crushlette. Have just discovered she has a boyfriend, adding a final check in the "no hope for Killy" column. Eh, it's just as well... time to move on.

D is for dead tired. Which I am.

D is also for doomed. Which I am if I don't finish this history paper. I'd best get on it!