All Quiet on the Dominican Front.

A hideous disease has sidelined me and Denise for this week, and we're only now barely recovered. I'll spare the details, but I will say that every single day I had a completely new symptom. It was like the Kinder surprise of illnesses.

Not so tasty.

The shitty thing about being out for a week is that it's like an unwanted restart button. I had all sorts of projects and plans beforehand - including writing, reading, and the gym - and now I have to pick it all up again. The lowlight of the week is that I had to skip out on a trip to Seven Waterfalls, my hypothetical second hike, because I was starting to feel under the weather. The highlight is that I managed to score four goals in ball hockey this week.

Compounding all this is the fact that it's kind of an inherently strange time of the semester. The third semester students just finished a gigantron exam, which turned them all into shells of their former selves. An attitude of "fuck it, let's just get through this" has taken hold, and everyone is hunkered down. Can't really blame them: fourth semester and salvation is just around the corner, and it's taking every ounce of energy just to get there. Plus it's like a billion degrees outside now, every day.

It's totally like this over here, except all lush and green and stuff. Plus there's an ocean.

So really what I'm reporting is this: there's nothing to report. The Ross community has entered purgatory, and it's all the worse for Denise and I since we've been hermits in our apartment, with mounting piles of kleenexes all around us. Le suck.