The Dust it Collects

Teenage boys can never go fast enough.  I still lie in bed at night and wonder what it would be like to create a rocket with a small (pressurized) capsule and a seat in it with which to ride up to the fringes up the atmosphere. It'd be fast. Too fast. And scary as heck.  I'd never want to climb in it. But I still think about it.

Life moves too fast. I was standing over my son's crib tonight. He was tired. Too tired for his own good.  I had been in the kitchen and could hear him whimpering.  He'd whimper and then doze. Grump a little, and doze again.  I walked in and he had gotten flipped over on his back. Uncomfortable, he couldn't convince himself to go to sleep.

I stood there looking at my son as he snuggled to sleep (on his tummy). So much like me. I have to have my position just perfect. Left side. Blanket on the shoulder.  I can't sleep any other way. I've tried. 

I pulled out my Pre-Calculus book tonight.  My recent dabbling in family poker games had me ready to dust off the statistics book, but a quick review of my shelf reminded me I had sold it shortly after the end of the semester. 8 years ago.

It's hard to imagine 8 years passing.  Eight years ago I was a suspender-clad college freshman that was only 12 years away from becoming a doctor.  That was before Organic Chemistry. Or Physics...

I'm still torn between being glad I'm not confined to 80-hour workweeks as medical student, and frustrated because I would have only been 48 months from a 6-figure income and payments on a quarter-million dollar student loan debt.

I think I'll stick to being glad.

So, if anyone has a college-level statistics book I could borrow, I'd be obliged. As my brother stated, 8 years is a long time to hang onto something and still know where it is.

Speaking of 8 years ago, I discovered tonight that blogger has only retained the last 4 years of my blog posts.  I guess I need to start printing them off. Another book to hang onto, I guess.