I want to write a post about the hour-long conversation I had with the professor of a writing class I took in college (freshman year) after I looked him up tonight on switchboard.com and called him to tell him that although I was a terrible student in his class I finally understand what he was trying to teach us, fifteen six years later, but, given the time stamp on this post, I am writing instead about how I must face the fact that the days when I could pull an all-nighter and end up with anything to show for it (other than a now-empty jar of Smucker’s Low Sugar Strawberry Preserves) are officially over.
Can Botox and suppositories be far behind?
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