All mimsy were the borogoves and the mome wraths outgrabe

I've noticed that I write most of my posts on Mondays and Thursdays, which happen to be my two busiest days of the week.  Inversely, most posts don't get written on Saturdays or Sundays when I have nothing to do but change from my pajamas into my sweatpants, catch up on my American television, and then lie on the floor and stare at my ceiling in boredom.  Ah, the mysteries of life.  So to continue with this tradition, here is your Monday post.  However, I write this not because I'm on a roll from my busy day, but because I just went to my afternoon school and was in the middle of printing out the worksheets that I spent two hours creating last night, when one of the teachers casually mentions to me, "Oh, there's no English today.  The teacher's not here."  Let me stop and explain something here:  I love not working just as much as the next lazy American.  But when I only have 12 hours of work per week (the other 156 hours being spent either sleeping, eating or sitting in my room slack-jawed and lost in deep reverie), I tend to really look forward to those 12 hours.  I look forward to them even more after I've put a lot of time and effort into planning lessons.  But as is wont to happen, I've found, yet another class has been canceled on me and it's really starting to get under my skin.  Oh well.  This is when I resort to reciting my canon of favorite French phrases:  Laisse tomber, c'est pas grave, tant pis, il n'y a pas de souci... in other words, fuhgeddaboudit.  But if this keeps up, I'm gonna have to coax out my inner Patrick Swayze.  Cause nobody puts baby in a corner.

"So what DO you do with all your spare time?"  That's a great question, man in the back with the ten-gallon hat.  I still listen to my favorite podcasts like Prairie Home, This American Life and Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me; watch a lot of American television; make the most exciting meals possible considering I have only two hotplates and a fridge at my disposal and let my room get really messy so then I can spend a good hour cleaning it.  I've also been reading a lot (currently reading The Best American Short Stories of 1998), journaling every day and writing some short fiction when I'm feeling very motivated, and memorizing poetry.  Yes, you read that right, memorizing poetry.  Like I said, I have a lot of spare time. Whip me out at parties when there's a lull and I'll recite Jabberwocky or Kubla Khan, or maybe Shakespeare and Yeats is more your style!  I've got something for everyone!  I run for hours on battery and come with a convenient retractable cord for charging for your all-night poetry slams!  I have a faulty mute button but locking me in a closet works just as well!

Boredom does strange things to people, but don't be fooled!  I still have all my mental faculties and I'm enjoying life up in my little artist's garret.  Here's something to leave you with:  If iterate already means to "perform or utter repeatedly" then is reiterate an unnecessary reiteration of iterate?  Think about it....