"But ah'm not afraid of dyin'. Cause I know that when I get to heaven there are gonna be these wonderful trees, and ah'm gonna climb them. But you know what? Instead of leaves and flowers, those trees are gonna have fried eggs, and delicious Virginia ham, and big heaping bowls of biscuits and sausage gravy. And one day, Sammy, you're gonna meet me there, and we're gonna climb those breakfast trees together, and it's gonna be delicious and we're gonna be happy until the end of time."


All This To Work At Starbucks. Maybe.

2 months and 9 days.  That's all that stands between me and that divine "grace period" I keep hearing so much about from the two thousand or so different loan companies to which I am indebted for this experience.  
Remind me, again, why I am doing this?
Seems like an awful lot of work just to be left to whether or not I can talk my clay professor into turning that incomplete into a C.  Before he flies back to the West Coast on Thursday.
Speaking of which, anyone have any brilliant ideas on how to convince a clay professor, who is flying back to the West Coast on Thursday, to change an incomplete to a C?
I'd be much obliged.