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Last night, in an event that will live in swing dancing infamy, I first made a guy abandon his cookie to dance with me, and then elbowed him in the mouth.  Yeah.  What made it worse was that I’d been watching him dance all night, and waiting my chance to grab him.  He was enormously sweet about it, but Lord.  I’m still blushing.  The last time I did that to a guy was well over a year ago, on the night I managed to elbow first Mr. Clean and then Bounce.  That was also a night that will live in swing dance infamy.  Though Bounce did say he’s glad to be off my injured list now.  But why do I have to have a list at all?  I just haven’t been dancing enough lately.  That’s what it is.  Sure.  Dang vacations…

In other news, Monday night I made bread just because I could.  Have I mentioned that I love having a kitchen that’s really mine?  Yup.  Pretty freaking awesome.  It’s good bread too, though I didn’t use a recipe, so I’m not sure if I can replicate it.  But that doesn’t really matter.  Bread is bread, and it’s good just by being itself.  Especially if I made it.  I’m not bragging, just speaking the plain, natural truth.  Really.

In other other news, I really need to get a new mattress.  The mattress I had been sleeping on belonged to my Previous Roommate, so I left it behind when I moved.  When my family brought over my bed (one of a set of antique twin beds that used to belong to my great-grandparents and now belong to me) they grabbed one of the mattresses out of the attic to go with it.  Only I think this mattress may be as old as the bed.  I swear I can feel every spring and coil in the thing.  So can my lower back.  It’s been letting me know about this.  Johnsy lent me some foam egg-crate type stuff, which is helping a lot, but it’s not the same as having an actual, back-supporting mattress under me.  Finances are tight right now while I’m waiting for some of my school finance stuff to get straightened out, so it could be a little while.  In the meantime I’ll be pinching pennies and dreaming (literally) of pillow-topped cushiony-ness.

And that’s all the news that’s fit to print.  Er, type.  Whatever.

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