The F Word.

It's Finals Week, which means my hair is dirty. So is my house. We have no findable clean laundry (it's buried in piles) and we eat no meals planned ahead by more than 8 minutes or so. But every 12 weeks we go through this ritual, and still somehow we pull through, stay fed and stay married.

This quarter wasn't nearly as taxing as the last, although I always find myself more intense about stuff than I plan to be. Sometimes just letting go can be a challenge. But as I like to say, and by which I would like to live better: "Done is better than perfect."

Two exams are done. Two left to go. By this time tomorrow, I hope to be a free woman.

Aside from the bonds of laundry, that is...