In ballet today, we stared doing jumps and kicks. I think I've pulled something, and right now my manner of walking is vaguely reminiscent of Jack Sparrow.

My hair is kind of stuck in a swept-back banshee look because I missed the bus by about 30 seconds and decided to ride my bike back from campus. In cold, cold, rainy wind. (In the end, this is better for my bike, I think, since now it won't spend the rest of the week out in the cold and damp.)

My thumb is heavily bandaged and I let out a high-pitched "eek" whenever it's bumped because, while looking for a place to lock my bike in the bike room here, I crushed it between another bike and the rack.

Current chances of making an impression tonight that says "Hi guys, I have it really together and would be great with your dogs." -- 35% (more or less depending on my ability to joke about my current state).

Current chances of said impression instead being "I will consume your dogs whole like some kind of mythical Mediterranean she-beast that shrieks when you press her thumb!" -- 73% (the overlap in percentages is, naturally, because these impressions are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Though only in a case where "great with your dogs" involves me and the dogs being eaten for dinner, which probably doesn't warrant as much overlap as I've given it.)

Thanks, world. I see what you're trying to do here.
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