I guess I spoke prematurely about us using this blog more regularly, but whatever. I, for one am suffering from an inexplicable ennui. And to say that I suffer from it is incorrect, for the ennui is not interesting enough even to involve suffering, in which event I might be roused by it. Rather, I yearn for something, but I know not what it is. Robert and I are doing good, but his voice gives me monno some days, and his constant requests for affection seem immoderate and juvenile. I cannot pick up a book without finding him suddenly in my lap requesting smooches. I wish he would have an affair with some hot, hung twenty-year-old so that I could have some relief.

I also made a loaf of bread today.

The summer class I am taking is kicking my ass. It's only the second I'm taking toward my Master's. Do either of you hate the word "towards" as much as I do? I have a 15-20 page--single-spaced--research paper to finish by next Tuesday that I have not even started.

But I made a loaf of bread today.