The Mrs. is away at College Park for her annual two-week teacher arts integration workshop. They have a contingent of Italians along for the ride who I'm sure are gleeful over yesterday's match, which left a bad taste in my mouth (I'm looking at you, Zizou). Zidane's foul wasn't entirely to blame--I'm not satisfied by the penalty kick finish.
I did this weekend what I usually do when Cha leaves: I drank great quantities of beer and wine. Now I'm at work and it's Monday and I'm bored. I don't hear from my boss (outside of the lavish praise during my performance review) for weeks on end--today I found two fussy, scolding handwritten notes on my chair from her.
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