The marathon is ending. Tomorrow *should* be the last day of running around for me, if all goes well. I’ve had to make a lot of tough choices these last few months, and the latest of these was the decision to stay home and put up Christmas decorations with my in-laws instead of buying a sari to wear to tomorrow’s Diwali mela for the cultural diversity fair at work. My thinking on this is, it will be disappointing for everyone not to see me in a sari, but then again, I am more than willing to recommend a good therapist for anyone who is truly devastated by it. In the meantime, I am enjoying my be-hatted flamingos in the window. And to me, that is more important than the damn cultural fair. Or whatever the hell they’re calling it.
Monday was my last painting class. And my last class of the semester. And my last class ever. Well, I shouldn’t say that. Knowing me, I will be looking into taking more classes before long. I bore too easily. But if I start talking about any more bachelors degrees or getting a masters in something totally weird, someone please take me out for coffee and dump the pot on my head. I promise not to be offended.
Anyway, the class went well. My last painting was their favorite – a painting of smoke inspired by a photograph that I can’t find anymore. I’d take a photo of the painting I did, except that it would take too long and I still have a ton of things to do before I collapse tonight. Consider it “on the list.” I was pretty proud of it, though.
But yeah. I’m done with school, but I’ve been so busy at work and otherwise that I haven’t even had the chance to notice it yet. Blah.