Ticked off but not dying

Well, there are no bullseye rashes or signs of necrosis, so I suppose I will live from the tick bite. Sad to say, though, the tick didn't fare as well. You know, he actually died while consuming, which means either that my blood is poisonous to living creatures (which is cool in a mutant, comic bookesque sort of way) or that my boobs were just too much for him. Either way, I'm ok with it, and Sir Tick is all wrapped up in a John Doe bag (Ziploc, actually) in the event that I need to present it to a doctor or entomologist.

And now onto the semester at hand. I haven't even started classes yet, and I have something due tomorrow. This is going to be one bitch of a semester. I'm taking an overload, but there is a remote possibility that I can get to my dissertation a semester early if I rock this semester hard. And that is a plus in my book.

So with powerade and cheetos (yeah, I'm allergic to cheese, but damn, I've been craving these damn things for weeks now. Just can't shake it) strategically placed on my desk, I am prepared to procrastinate the proposal introduction I have to write before tomorrow. And so I am going to go water some plants, do some laundry, and then bake some cookies. And then I'll write the thing.