I will now break my blogging silence to make the most anticipated announcement of the year:


Last week a baby squirrel almost hit me on the head.

It fell out of the ceiling of the gas station across the street from the store in Dalton where I'm probably going to buy the cabinets for my house. It was crazy. I was looking at the fountain drink selection and then whoosh. Baby squirrel. He looked terrified, and the Indian man behind the counter did too. "Shit! Shit!" He'd say. I could not respond because I was laughing so hard at the two of them. My dad came in, saw the three of us, and offered to herd the squirrel out, except the attendant left the door to the area behind the counter open and the poor little squirrel ran behind the counter, probably to score some cigarettes before he left. "Shit!" Said the attendant. "Fucking immigrants," said the squirrel. "It's about time you gave this job to a natural-born American." So my father shooed the attendant out of the gas station and the squirrel gave us our drinks on the house.

No, but there really was a baby squirrel. And it was pretty exciting. Almost exciting as the reason we were in Dalton in the first place, which is to say that we were on our way back from the closing. Which is to say that a week ago today I spent the most money I've ever spent in my life. And I'm about to spend another year's worth of Harvard tuition in the next three weeks. It's kind of surreal for me to spend this kind of money, and on American soil. But as much as I have felt like I was being stupid and melancholy for turning down Virginia and later Michigan, and in-between those American Samoa (That was a mistake, I think, turning down American Samoa. I try not to dwell on it too much.), I feel like this is a good decision. I just wish we could hurry up and finish this house so I can go ahead and move.

In other news, my the roof of my mouth is swollen. What's up with that?