In which we toast

Please welcome the newest member of our household, the Toastation:


So pretty, no? And heats to searing in seconds. I forsee a lot of french-bread pizza in my future.

And, yes, this is prime procrastination fodder during this, my second-to-last day of summer vacation. What I should be doing is double-checking my syllabus, organizing notes, charging up the Shuffle, whatnot. What I'm actually doing is lazing in my pajamas, trying to finish up my first RPM sock (why am I so bad at elastic bind-offs?), and toasting things.

Somehow, we tried to pack a full summer's worth of going out into the last four days, and I am far too old for this kind of schedule. One lively bar night and two barbecues later, I'm tired. But I needed the practice at being social, I guess.

What I'm mostly dreading is all the beginning-of-the-year small-talk schmoozing. Mostly because I the contents of my "What I did on my summer vacation" essay is: video games, baseball, napping. I'm mad at myself for not finishing the chapter, but I know that self-recrimination isn't especially productive. At least I have three weeks to practice on the St. Happy folk before I have to face my department.