Who wants to go to town with a guy who drives a rowboat?

I am getting a sore throat. I am blaming the girl I don't like at work, who came back from her last trip coughing. More likely, it is caused by the fact that I sleep with the air conditioner on and pointing at my face all night. It is probably a bad idea, but I prefer it to the sweaty knees of my natural environment.

I turned in my last paper and finished my sociology final tonight. Huzzah for being done with another semester. I have made an August resolution that I must go to the gym while I am out of school. Ever since the representative from Merrill Lynch hosted the meeting and told us not to pay for things we don't use, like gym memberships, I have felt like my future wealth all hangs in the balance of whether or not I go to the gym. If I knew more about math and calculus, I would figure out what my $22 a month, compounded with interest, would be when I turned 70. But I've never been very good with math. I didn't have Winnie Cooper telling me to go for it.

I have a very vivid memory of failing a subtraction test in 2nd grade. I didn't carry any of the numbers, so I believe I got every answer wrong. It was the first time in my life that I completely failed to understand something. I always point to that, and ditching algebra II, to explain my completely disinterest in math. It would be nice to blame my teachers and society for encouraging the belief that math is harder for girls, but I know myself pretty well. In my youth, if I didn't instantly succeed at something, I didn't bother trying again. Math may have been the first casualty of that personality trait. To be followed by crocheting, playing the piano, speaking french, and learning bass clef.

To my credit, I used to know the decimal conversion for inches in a yard (all 36 values). I never thought I would work a job where it would be important to know that 4 inches is .167 yards, but then, I started working at Hancock Fabrics.