667th post.

Too bad I didn't notice that the last one was the 666th, because then I would have had something to write about.

* All I can think about right now is that the smell of the freshly-cleaned catbox is nauseating. I don't know if I'm reacting to the smell of the Clorox or if Mr. P. did not do a thorough enough cleaning job. And the box is located unfortunately close to my desk.

* I have before me a pile of grading. I am making some headway. However, the fact that I have no room of my own makes grading at home difficult, particularly if anyone wants to use the living room or dining room, watch t.v., or, as so often happens, bang on all surfaces with large, inflatable, squeaky hammers that one has acquired at various fairs. At least certain persons with an affinity for such activities are currently in school.

* I wonder if anyone else enjoys shredding as much as I do? I have a little desktop shredder that is only supposed to go for two minutes at a time, so it's taken me months, but in about five minutes, I will be all caught up on my shredding. I love it. Shredding stuff makes me feel super-organized and about as OCD as it is possible to be. At this point, I am writing my social security number down on random pieces of paper so that I can shred them. Well, not quite. But almost.