Add a Little Weird and Stir

What a snow fall! At least ten inches. I think, looking back, that I probably will always regret not playing in it more, but I was too humiliated. I took a huge plastic lid outside, walked through this enchanting path, all evergreens and sparkling whiteness, topped the hill, sat on the lid, and sank. Sank right into the snow. I stood up, held the lid in front of me, took a running start, and dove down the hill..... about an inch in the half. My feet flailing in the air, shaking snow all down my legs; my socks and skirt completely covered with snow. I sat and pouted a bit, but I continued trying until witnesses arrived to the scene. Then it was time to pack up and go in. 

                         Oh, this is supposed to be my obligatory mid-terms-before-spring-break complaint session. Since it's expected, here goes:

Rant. Rant Rant. *Sob*. Rant. *Stomp Foot and Stalk Away.*

I hope that fills my quota, because I'm feeling too weird to complain. Like everything is a little surreal. Like "oops, I didn't mean to stare. I just happened to have my eyes focused on you when I zoned out."  I have such plans for Spring Break, and such apathy for the here-and-now, that I can't focus on anything unless it's random, tragic, or hilarious. Luckily, all my classes fall into one or more of those categories, so I'm safe. Well, not so much Philosophy, but that class has a very soothing quality to it. 

                   No, instead of complaining I'm going to rejoice. I have my new shoes. Oh, they are so nice. I was walking towards my room, carry  them and wearing my boots. Oh, these boots. They are good for walking in the snow, but unless you are wearing two pairs of socks, you will end up walking with a wad of cloth under you heel. Not comfortable. Halfway to my dorm I had a thought, put on the your beautiful new Merrells. So I did. Immiedate satisfaction. I was all a grin. And then the pain came. Man, after those flat boots, the craddling action felt almost harsh. I was a little worried. But I later walked down to dinner and they felt fine. Better than fine. If my Little Black Box was working I'd take a comparison shot between my brand new shoes and my old ones, but since I can't, lets just say my old one are very, very loved. Their heels are worn away, as if  someone took a sword to them and sliced off the black rubber. And the elastic on the tongue, one side of it's completely stretched out, probably because I  literally  kick my shoes off when I come home. 

                 Oh, heads up, in the next twenty-six posts I'm going to try to bring a bit of structure to my writing. I'm going to go for  content  first, and, if that turns out okay, I'll then start a serious study of styles. As they might say in, Japan まったね！(Pronunciation: ma-ta. Literally: again. Bunberry-ation: Until next time!)