Walking out of my comp exams this week -- shaking, exhausted, and relieved -- I had one significant thought. No, it wasn't at all related to Modernism or Romanticsm or even the fact I couldn't remember the name of "Wuthering Heights" (which was okay, really, it wasn't something I needed to know for the exam -- I was going to use it as an example of something Virginia Woolf was not -- but I couldn't think of that novel's name. Crazy).
No, I remember that in two days, I was going to have Prom at my house. We'll find out how "Pretty in Pink" this place can be. I'll get pictures and torrid tales up here soon, of course.
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