Strep. Want some? It's going around.

Fall is coming. And so is Emily. She'll be here on Friday! I can't even wait.
And then, of course, I only have a week after that until Mumu, Fruitypants, Aunt Sally and Grandma Mary get here.
And then after that, fall break and Oregon and Danny.
It's going to be a great September and beginning of October.
I talked to Mike. He's excited to come. Wants to do something exciting. I told him there was nothing he could do in Chicago that would be exciting. We'll see.
Ah, the Wellness Center.
I will never appreciate what they do for all of the students of Loyola. My roommate, bearing swollen lymph nodes in her neck, a sore throat that looked nasty, even from my vantage point (which didn't include the usual light and popsicle stick check), and a voice that would make a volverine purr with pain, went off to the Wellness Center only to be told that she was fine.
It's strep.
I am currently debating even going back and asking for a strep test. I went last Thursday with a sore throat, and a cough that included both blood and green stuff, only to be told it was merely a cold and my lungs sounded clear. No strep test.
I'll make an appoinment tomorrow afternoon.
Someone should say something to them about how inadequate they are. How hard is it, really? I used Steve last year as my "doctor," since he is pre-med and probably knows more than they do. In fact, I always feel like he'll at least offer you an answer instead of the usual cough drop and absolutely nothing you get there.
And don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those crazed college students you hear about faking illness for drugs. I don't think that any ailment can be solved with a prescription. I prefer not to put artificial medicines into my body, but when it's strep, or something like that, I'm all about proper treatment. Especially because it's such a contagious illness and I live in such close quarters with people.
Ah, such is life.
I need to get a doctor out here.
I love Danny. He stayed in last night so we could talk on the phone, and it's wonderful. He wakes me up each morning (just like he used to do in the summer) with a cute text message that completely energizes my morning.
Steve and I might look into yoga.
I've been getting very domestic lately. You should have seen the homemade pizza I made. I kneaded the dough, let it rise, formed it and voila! Pizza crust. Then sauce, cheese, veggies, meat. Bake. Food. Everyone liked it.
I do dishes. I clean the house. I whipped out my "Mom-Voice" on my roommate's boyfriend completely accidentally. He was like, "Katie, you sound like my mom." Ah. Wow.
I just realized that I don't really know what I want to do with my life except write. And suddenly, everything else is less appealing than usual. So I think I will just become a writer and then not worry about having an actual career. Because the 9 to 5 won't make me happy. Did it work for any of you? I don't want to wake up one day and realize that I never did anything I wanted to because I was worried about attaining status or making money (but then again, I'll probably wish I had). So we'll see.
I did write a sweet lead for a story in one of my Journalism classes. It had to be no more than 25 words, and while the rest of the class labored over it for quite some time, I had 21 words in less than 30 seconds. So, see, I'm not bad at this.