Roasted Flesh.

I burned my wrist retrieving cookies from the oven last night. There is nothing quite like cooking your own, still attached, flesh.
Anna is at the elementary for her last (official) day of student teaching. Being the kind soul she is, she acquiesced to the high school teacher's request for her to show up on Tuesday. Apparently he is in major need of help, and my wife is the only one incredible enough to be able to help.
I'm not looking forward to packing up this apartment.
Let's all move to Colorado and be friends again.
I'm hungry, but again, I lack the motivation to do something about it.
It's hard to believe that, in a little over a week, Anna and I will be leaving our first dwelling of our married life. There are so many memories. I can't repress them all.
Oh, I almost forgot. I'm wearing those indescribably patterned boxers again. I suppose it seems like I wear them a lot, but believe it or not, I do sometimes do laundry.