Those of you who have been around for a while may remember that shortly after Sam was born, I had an identity crisis got the bright idea to start graduate school.

Jenny went out of her way – repeatedly - to tell me what a bad plan it was. But did I listen? Of course not.

So here I sit, two years later. I actually managed to complete all my coursework (and got all A’s… except for one awful online course. I got a C+ in that. Learn from my mistakes, kids – buy the correct text book). It meant late evenings one or two nights a week, and fitting things like reading and writing papers into my schedule, but I lived to tell about it.

However.

One minor detail stands between me and my MA.

My thesis.

Yeah. My thesis. Originally I had planned to write it and be done by May 2010. Then the plan shifted to an August graduation. But here I sit at the end of August, and all I have to show for it is a draft of a proposal (not even the real thing, just the proposal!) that my advisor chewed up and spit out. That happened in May, and I haven’t managed to do a thing with it since then.

It is a giant monkey on my back. I want to get it over with, I want to be done already. But I don’t want to do it. I don’t have time to do it.

I’m going to have to find both the time and the motivation, and I know the longer I put it off the harder it’s going to be. Ugh.

Jenny was right all along. Grad school is for suckers.

Ok so I’m trying to figure out how to write this post without seeming like a neurotic, germaphobic snob or just a complete nut job. It turns out, I can’t.

But unfortunately for all of us, that’s not going to stop me.

Here’s the thing. Tonight we went to a potluck dinner, and I’ve just got to say…

Potlucks skeeve me out.

They sound like a good idea in theory – we each bring one thing, it’s not too hard on anyone, everyone’s happy.

In practice, however, they really don’t work out that well. Take, for example, what my family ate tonight. Andy had a plate full of assorted food that included chicken & noodles, asian cole slaw salad, cubes of cheese, and shrimp cocktail. Sammy ate a piece of cheese pizza, half a peanut butter and jelly, baked beans and a chocolate chip cookie (the most normal out of any of us). Kate ate a spoonful of sloppy joe without a bun and a cupcake, and I ate a chicken leg.

Because potlucks? They’re random food made by random people.

As you may have noticed, it’s not that I have a problem eating food prepared by others (in fact, that’s how I prefer it).

It’s not even that I’m opposed to the 16 variations of green bean casserole or endless dishes of that hash brown/sour cream/potato chip concoction. I actually am a big fan of those things and many other white trash delicacies as well.

But when they’re piled on a picnic table and their origin is unknown…

Well, I eat a chicken leg.

Because, like I said, potlucks skeeve me out.

I know the box of KFC is much more likely to contain spit and/or other bodily fluids than the food lovingly prepared by moms much more domestic and talented than me, yet somehow the luke warm Original Recipe seems like the safest choice.

I don’t know what it is.

Actually, I do know what it is. It’s random food made by random people.

It weirds me out.

Now, since I ate a measly chicken leg for dinner, I’m going to go order a pizza. Because dough kneaded by pimply teenagers is MUCH MORE APPEALING than a crock pot full of meatballs.

So here it is, April 14th. Our federal and state taxes have been done for months. Our refund is sitting happily in our savings account (after being unhappily held in the IRS “error resolution department” for a month). Even our school district taxes are taken care of.

However, it wasn’t until I logged onto Facebook and saw a friend’s status update regarding her local taxes that those even crossed my mind.

As I wrote about last year, I have a long and sordid history with local taxes.

To make a long story short, I never remember to pay them. You’d think after paying for about six years all at once and even blogging about it last year, I would have had it taken care of by now, but nope… haven’t even started.

The stupid part about this is that for whatever reason the local tax form confounds me. I don’t know how a one-page document can be so complicated, but it is.

I guess I know what I’m doing tonight! Sorry, Kate, your homework is going to have to wait til tomorrow.