...and then you throw the dog a bone.

Navigating the vicissitudes of college is not nearly as rigorous as preparing to leave the house. First, there is the ritual Packing-of-the-Bookbag. Certain items live in the bag, like pens, pencils, calculator, ruler, great big eraser, Scantrons, student ID card, a lipstick and comb. Others need to be added: kleenex, driver's license, ATM card (just in case), a little cash (for early morning latte), cell phone, academic planner, three-ring binder, homework, and of course, textbooks, hopefully the right ones for that day's classes. Which means I must always know what day it is, and what day it will be tomorrow, even. On Wednesdays, I also take a lunch and my laptop, which means the bag weighs a whole bunch more. After packing, there is the ceremony of Finding-the-Keys, which sometimes entails remembering what I wore yesterday, too. Once located, I must secretly slip them into my pocket without drawing the dog's attention, as this is a dead giveaway that I am leaving, and may not plan on taking him, always an occasion of much ennui on his part. Then there are the rites of Turning-Everything-Off, which is the main thrust of my current exercise program, as I always manage to forget something at the other end of the house. On my way back, I slip a couple of MilkBones out of their box, so that by the time I grab my bookbag and don my coat, scarf, and sunglasses, with Boo whining and griping and jumping about a lot, I am all ready to give him a bone (after he sits up for me; he doesn't get something for nothing, after all), then toss another one across the room (otherwise he will sneak by me when I open the door and storm the car), I am free to leave. With any luck, I have remembered everything I need, because going back into the house is sheer hell to pay. Fortunately, I only need do this four days a week. And I get a nice vacation at the end of the semester. Which I really, really need by that time. A semester equals one box of Milk Bones, in case you were wondering.