Shake up your bones. Because I got very carried away with myself, I'm tempted to excerpt part of an e-mail I just wrote. It's quite amusing.

I suppose that finals aren't compatible with happiness, you know? If they were, they'd call them...Joyals or Funals. Yes, funals would be a definite improvement. The professors would hand out ice cream that would make you lose weight and there'd be a carnival with wiener dogs as prizes and there would be one question: "2+2=?" And then you'd be dismissed with a guaranteed A. And then we could make love for the rest of the day in a big, canopy bed with beautiful white cotton sheets in Paris with French doors that opened out to a balcony with a view of the Tour Eiffel. And I'd be wearing a white, silk slip that made me look sinuous yet smooth and I'd be so beautiful. You'd just be naked (It's my fantasy, I say you're naked). and it would be very breezy and the air would smell fresh. Mmmm.....

I'm nothing if not romantic. But you have to admit, that's a truly fantastic reverie.