I didn't really notice February sneaking past. That's fine with me, because I kind of hate it. Winter loses its charm in its fourth month (if you count November, which is equally unpleasant for the Midwest). I'm sick of wearing heavy clothes and spending all my time inside. Good riddance.
Valentine's this year was eventful. Montana and I don't care much for showering each other in flowers and chocolate. Instead, we'd planned to go to a Passion Pit concert in Cleveland on the 19th. We were going out with friends to get dinner and drinks before the show. We were super excited. He skipped his Tuesday class and drove to Wooster late Monday night, only to spend the night (and the next day) puking. "A good cleanse," he called it. I sold our tickets.
Turns out Passion Pit had the flu, too. The whole concert got canceled.
So for Valentine's Day, I got myself something.
I've been saying this Oprah-style in my head all week.
Ok, it's not new. It's used. And the interior smells like somebody left their cat in it too long. Still, I bought it with my own money, and I learned how to drive it in two days. Driving a manual and having insurance payments is a big step toward someday being an adult, right?
Also, I finished this and finally turned it into the higher powers that be:
And that pretty much wraps up my Wooster career. I feel a little empty inside.
But maybe that's because I just got over the flu.
Now for spring break and outdoor track. Florida, here we come.