This is the part where we dance (Bollywood style)

I wish I had my friend Cassandra's sense of humor so I could write about my life in a funny, interesting way. I swear, Cass took a Christmas pudding recipe and made it hilarious (French brandy: For export to England only! Ha!) (Cass, I still want your memoire!) (it wasn't the one that went around about drinking rum, either. In fact, Cass was very specific that you do not want to drink the wine that you bathe your pudding in because it is supposed to be too vile for consumption), but I'm not that way. Not being English doesn't help either. I'm just a dull, average American and this blog is slowly heading towards the "breathing in, breathing out" updates that I see on some other blogs.

Currently, I'm at work, not working as is my wont, and waiting to head off to college for another night of fun in biology. I'm praying with all my might that there will be another severed shark's head in the lab, but I can't expect to get lucky every night.

I like my lab partners. They're obviously just in this class to get biology out of the way so they can move onto something else (fashion? I don't know), but they're hard workers, and they're trying to understand what we're doing. I never thought I'd be in a position to help other people with math and sciences, especially after the C in algebra, but I feel really useful in terms of helping them out. And they have strengths as well. I'm dyslexic and tend to not read instructions as they give me a headache, and I almost always get stuff mixed up (when I bake, I do the unthinkable and just go with what looks, feels and tastes right because I just don't do recipes), so they're really good at helping me read the directions right. I wish I could bring them to university with me! (My baking is superb...I don't need no stinkin' recipes.) (I also never make the same thing twice.)

We are moving starting tomorrow morning, and I'm mostly just worried about the logistics of moving all the stuff, and then all the furniture, and then the cat. Poor Mr. Chekhov has been very clingy and suspicious lately. I wonder if his former owners dropped him off whilst moving? He seems to think something bad is going to happen, and it makes me wish even moreso that this was all over. The upside is being on the receiving end of kitty cuddles, and if you own a cat, then you know how few and far-between those things come.

My title came from me thinking all of this over, and realizing that on Saturday, after the old apartment has been cleaned and left behind, and we're firmly ensconced in our new apartment, it would be the point in the Bollywood movie where we would break into some fabulous dance whilst wearing harem pants and having fabulous hair. We'll probably just have to suffice with Netflixing the first season of Downton Abbey, though.