Still grading. Never ends. Hate grading. Love teaching. Hate grading.
My parents did not sell their third car. I apparently either missed - or got an extra - memo somewhere. This is awesome, because it means I have wheels the whole time I am here. And not just any wheels; some of my favorite wheels. Why? What could make this one car worthy of such praise? Because it has in it what is simply, for lack of better words to express the fantastic in the English language, the best invention and leap forward of human kind since we drug ourselves out of primordial goo.
It has heated seats.
Purr.