A study in contrasts:

Things I did last week Monday:

~woke up early

~crammed for a 10:15am final exam

~took a final exam

~ate lunch while studying for the second final exam of the day

~took another final exam

~ate dinner 

~studied for the other 6 exams I had to take that week

~laid in bed for hours, disturbingly awake, my brain buzzing with information

~finally fell asleep, exhausted and filled with dread for the coming days

Things I intend to do this week Monday:

~sleep in late

~go for a run

~eat a leisurely breakfast

~go to the library and pick out a few good novels 

~meet up with friends for lunch

~wander around Target in search of some new flip flops

~cook dinner for my parents

~attend my little sister's choir concert

~read my new library book until my eyes won't stay open any more

~drift off to sleep with a smile on my face

P.S. Here is a picture of my new house. Yes, I realize it's pink. Yes, the neighbors probably all laugh at us behind our backs. Yes, I am completely smitten with it. And yes, these beautiful tulips popped up out of the earth all on their own, right next to the front steps. Lovely, aren't they? They even match. 

Heebie-Jeebies

Brook found this little guy's cousin in our trash can this evening. 

"Kaaaate!"

"Yeah, Brook?"

"There's a weird bug in the garbage can."

So I went over to have a look (along with Amanda, who happened to be visiting), and the creepy-crawly thing was clinging to the liner, flexing its spindly legs in waves as it tried to get out.

"What is it?" she asked, peering into the can as if it contained a severed human limb or something equally horrifying.

"It's a little alien." I said, examining it. "Or a centipede."

"Gross." she said, wiggling her shoulders in that strange way you do when you imagine something creepy scurrying up your back. 

"Stand back. I'll be the man of this household and get rid of it." I said boldly, grabbing a paper towel. But as soon as I approached the bucket to bravely dispose of the little sucker, Brook threw in a nausea-inducing comment.

"Good. Because I hate that crunching feeling of killing bugs."

I swallowed hard, imagining how all those legs would flail and snap between my fingers. Suddenly I was not so keen on my original plan. Especially when I got closer and the insect looked up at me with those beady little eyes. 

A chill shot up my spine, and I strategized an alternate plan of attack. Folding up the paper towel into a sturdy roll, I decided to flick it down into the bottom of the trash and simply bring the whole business outside to the bin. With Brook watching over my shoulder, I hesitantly moved to push the spindly bug off of its perch. But to my horror, instead of falling down, the creeper grabbed onto my paper-towel-flicker-thingy with several of its many legs.

I panicked. 

Screeching, I dropped the whole thing like it was on fire (thankfully, into the bag), and slammed the cover down, dancing away from the trash can with accompanying hoots and hollers of mixed surprise and disgust. This caused a very similar reaction in Brook, who shrieked just as loudly as I, recommencing her previous "get it off! get it off!" motion, plus a few hops away from the trash for good measure. 

After this moment of purely irrational behavior, we dissolved into hysterical laughter, and I moved back toward the garbage can to finish the job. Unfortunately, when I opened the lid I discovered that the multi-legged insect had begun to ascend the side once more. Knowing that I had to act quickly, I ripped the bag from the can, cinched up the opening, and sprinted out to the bin by our garage. I hurled the whole mess, bug and all, down into the big green can, and turned to cheer my victory. 

It was at that moment that Brook's two dogs caught up with me. 

I didn't get totally taken down by the ecstatic canines, but that's only due to the unusually large amount of adrenaline coursing thru my bloodstream, giving me momentarily-heightened reflexes. Winne and Jackson attacked me with excitement for a good 60 seconds before I could convince them that the ordeal was over, and I'd conquered the vile bug. All the while, Brook laughed from the safety of the kitchen. 

Give me a moldy human head in a bucket any day. I can handle that. But creepy-crawly bugs with too many legs? No thanks.

I said this wouldn't happen.

But it did. 

I have been shamefully absent from this blog for far, FAR to long! 

My deepest apologies, friends and readers, who have not gotten their "Kate's Little Adventures" fix for the past few weeks. I know it must have been rough on you. It has not been smooth sailing on this end either, believe me.

Now that I have confessed my guilt, I shall entertain you with a brief update regarding my biggest news of late; my new living arrangements!

At this very moment I am seated at my desk in my new bedroom, which is in my new house, which is on my new street, which is, believe it or not, in my new neighborhood! (and the green grass grew all around, all around... Camp song reference. Sorry.) 

Yes, my room is a disaster of unpacked boxes and unwashed laundry. Yes, the main floor looks like an episode of "Hoarders" (Piles of rubbish intersected by little paths going from room to room). Yes, I will continue to ignore both issues until after finals next week. 

Honestly, I'm just happy to be HOME. After feeling displaced for months and months, my heart is full of joy every time I drive up to the little pink box that will be my residence for the next two years. You read that correctly. My house is PINK. I'll put up pictures after I clean up the rest of my life... after finals. Patience is a virtue.

In the meantime, here is a literary snapshot of why I love my new house:

This afternoon, while home for a quick lunch between classes, I sat outside in my HUGE backyard, basking in the Chicago sunshine and munching on some gluten-free toast smothered with almond butter. Closing my eyes, I leaned back and sighed, for what glory didst grace my ears but the sound of church-bells, tolling the hour. If that wasn't amazing enough, the heavenly peals continued on, playing the tunes to several familiar hymns, their tones ringing brightly thru the spring air. I was instantly transported back in time and space to a sunny courtyard in the Netherlands where the very same sounds floated thru the air from the high steeples of magnificent cathedrals. 

As if to add bass notes to this treble-symphony of bells and birds, the rumble of a passing train grew louder and louder, sounding its mournful wail and clacking in percussive waves across the tracks just a block from where I sat. 

"There's something mysterious and romantic about that sound." I thought as it faded into the distance. The bells ceased their chiming as well, leaving me alone with the birds and the sunshine once more, but the chorus of the afternoon kept playing in my head for many hours later. And I smiled, knowing that tomorrow afternoon I would get to hear that same symphony again. And again. And again. Because this is my backyard, at my house, on my street, in my neighborhood. 

God is good.