I put all of my eggs in a basket and it seems that the basket's bottom has fallen out. I had a plan and that plan didn't work out. Luckily I also had a back-up plan. However it is proving to be tough to accept that plan B is now plan A and the previous plan A is now broken yolks on the floor. As well, some of those broken yolks aren't mine. They belong to some who I think is quite sweet and lovely, so I feel bad for dropping her eggs.
I'm back in purgatory. The place that I am is temporary. I am soon to be on the move again, much too soon. It looks as though I will be enduring some prairie winters. At least I'm finally grad school bound. That is a great thing, even if it doesn't feel that way right now.
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Perhaps this is what you sing to the egg pile:
Now I don't claim to be an "A" student
But I'm trying to be
So maybe by being an "A" student baby
I can win your love for me.
I look forward to hearing about this "grad school" experience from another child whose taste I trust.
If you were in Montreal and you dropped those eggs you might come back up with boobs. Yipes. Talk soon please.
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