Sippi Lovin'

Again, Benjamin serves as my inspiration for posting. I spoke with the fella earlier tonight and he assured me that updates of any kind would be appreciated. With that in mind, let me begin with this here grease burn on my right wrist.
When I departed St. Paul in late August, I had to make tough decisions about what was important enough to warrant inclusion in my luggage. The essentials like Frisbee golf discs, a bamboo flute, plastic tool box, and glass change jar all made the cut. One of those items that didn't make it was my, "Where's Mom When I Need Her?" cookbook. I figured that at the ripe old age of 24, I knew my way around the kitchen well enough. Since that ill-fated afternoon, I've suffered a third degree grease burn on my wrist, set off the smoke alarm on numerous occasions, and botched even the most basic of breakfasts: pancakes. I really thought I had it figured out, but I failed to include the baking powder, or is it baking soda?
My bedroom is a whole other story. I'm quite positive the room is in serious violation of multiple interior decorating rules, not the least important being the need for height and levels in any well arranged room. When I sit up from the floor in my room, I'm the second tallest item in the room, behind my bike. I've yet to purchase a bed, dresser, desk, night stand, lamp...and anything else a domesticated feller might purchase for his bedroom? I have, however, purchased a printer/copier for my laptop, which sits atop my 1-foot tall filing cabinet. Oh yes, and a TI-83 plus for my statistics class, which reminds me, I ought to send in that rebate. For those who know me well, I need not bother pointing out the theme here. In case anyone's wondering, Michelle has informed me I'd better have a bed by the time she arrives, so I figure I've got a little over a month before my next major purchase. My clothes are arranged in piles on the floor (pants in one, shirts in another, etc..) My school books are kept in one corner alongside notebooks, old term papers, journal articles, and pens. I sleep on the floor, of course, and use one blanket for added cushion and another to cover up with. I think a plant or two might be nice some where down the line.
In other news, I ran today for the first time in a whole long time. Ten minutes on the treadmill. Mr. Steve Pasche, everybody's good friend and my former cross country coach, urged me to seek counsel for my ankle this past weekend, insisting that a specialist just might have some real insight into treatment for a partially torn ligament. Steve reckoned that they might suggest I start running again to feel things out. I thought, hey, why not skip the specialist and give it a try anyway? And that's what I did. Feels pretty good.