No boys, no time

Boys are scum. Well, that is probably too harsh an assessment, but if I want to become the bitter middle age woman I envision in my future I have to start somewhere. I guess the truth is that I have had some bad luck (and made some worse decisions) in my romantic entanglements, so it really is not the fault of all the males out there. Knowing where the fault lies, I will delude myself into believing the original assertion: boys are scum.

Making a conscience decision to cut out romance out of my summer has been suprisingly pleasant. Instead of being mopey, I accomplished a number of nagging tasks. I cleaned out my closet and getting the last vestiges of junior high. Considering the 80's are now chic, hopefully there is a 18 year old wearing my old banana republic baby doll thinking she is hot.

The collection of cards on my wall was getting overwhelming. Found special acid free plactic covers on the internet. I catalogued all of my postcards that are older than 2 years in a special album.

Most of my Saturday nights have been free. Those have been filled with reading and laundry. This Saturday, I reserved to read the last Harry Potter book, once again, confirming my status as Queen of the Nerds. After reading it I did have a headache, and my roomate convinced me that the cure for a headache caused by Wizards and Muggles was beer. We did a little bonding at the Corrib Pub althought the stain of nerdom was still on me.

I have planned a number of getaways. I will be going to Maine on the first weekend of August, Quebec City the third weekend, and Rhode Island the fourth. And while the might seem to have the hint of romance in them, all of them entail chaste girl bonding.

I think what suprised me the most of my monastic months, is how quickly the time has gone by. I have just turned my head, and already its mid-July. I have never been someone who has been incredibly boy crazy, so how is it that I see such a difference? How is it I have gotten so much more accomplished? Why do I feel just as busy as ever? Why am I so jolly?

Well, in the words of my future bitter self my summer is further evidence, "Boys are scum."