The Home Stretch

After a nearly week-long hiatus from posting, the odds that there will be more such hiatuses (or should the plural form be "hiati?") in my near future are fairly decent.

We have entered the final stretch of what has been a rather speedy semester. One month from today I will be hunkered down and earnestly attempting to do nothing but study for the finals.

This is it, mis compadres bonitas . . . the grades I get out of this semester have the potential of determining the course of the rest of my adult life.

At this point I tentatively stand in the top 10%. Will I be here come June 1? Will I have any interest from potential employers when Fall OCI ("on campus interviewing") begins?

"Will Batman be able to use the laser on his belt to free himself before being lowered into Joker's vat of boiling hot caramel?"

"Will Robin reach the Commissioner before Gotham City Library is taken over by Catwoman's robotic amazon women?"

"Tune in tomorrow. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel."

I have no idea.

I have all but given up on finding a legal job here in Lubbock for the summer. Therefore, I have resigned myself to studying the intracies of Income Tax Law and Professional Responsibility during the dog-days of June and July.

That won't be so bad, however. I will get to learn how to shield mine and my client's earnings from the government WHILE being educated as to the ethical extent which I may go in doing so. Isn't the Law grand?!

Actually, as odd as I am I may really enjoy both.

In the meanwhile:

I will set up my golf-net in the backyard and, perhaps, practice on my swing for an hour or so and then leave the net up until I decide that -- no -- it isn't an appropriate place to put Christmas Lights. Then I'll brush the snow off, fold it up, and store it in the garage.

I will contemplate finally building, for my king-size bed, that beautiful oak headboard I have so intricately planned out on paper. Then, realizing I can't fit the wood in the backseat of my Ford Taurus, I'll change my mind.

I will write the first chapter of the Great American Novel and then put it in the same folder where all the rest of the first chapters of my Great American Novel have gone.

I will daydream a lot about the interesting work (and the money) that will come with my career in a couple short years.

But, more than anything, I will become re-aquainted with "Days" . . . and wonder: "Will Shawn and Belle be happy? Is Patrick working for the bad guys or not? Can Bo and Hope's marriage survive? And will Marlena make it back to John?"

'Cause, for now, my wife has been giving me the updates. And, alas, they are just never quite the same . . .