Did you have a Super Bowl obstruction? Me too.

It's almost 2 a.m. and I'm exhausted, but my body is so hyped up on caffeine-laden Diet Coke that I can't sleep!

What a weekend. I spent 16 hours in two days in the newsroom, proofreading stories and writing captions and headlines and cutlines and t-decks. I feel like my mind is a jumbled mess of alliteration and errant commas, and I can only hope that I don't dream about anything to do with my flippant sports' headline at the eleventh hour - "Bowl movement hampered by dampness." Gosh, that's bad.

I think of how exhausted I am and then I remember that I worked the equivalent of two eight-hour days. As in, two-fifths of a normal work week. Good thing I'm still in college and have at least another year to come to terms with that.

I have a job! Well, not officially, but it's almost guaranteed. I will be tutoring student-athletes a few hours each week, starting with my favorite former roommate! Maddie e-mailed the director of student services for athletes and requested me as her writing tutor. My first project will involve helping Maddie with a business research paper on breast implants. I will make $8.50 an hour.

The chicken pox epidemic continues in my household. Six-year-old Lexie has become the second victim of the angry red spots - just as Kevin stopped itching, conveniently. Amy is as certain as she is scared to death that she will be next. I wish I could offer some encouraging words, but I'm sure she's probably right. Luck has never been her forte.

God spoke to me late Friday morning in the form of a graduation checklist. After this semester, I will be 13 hours short of graduation. THIRTEEN HOURS. I need one more journalism class (I'm taking Advanced Editing and Design), and I will be done - FOREVER. My other ten credit hours are general electives, which means that if I really want to take Introduction to Walking, I can (that was my mom's suggestion, by the way). I'm thinking more along the lines of language classes. Eight years after I gave into the demands of my mother and chose Spanish as my high school language, I can finally learn introductory French. Good thing French never came in handy like you said it wouldn't, Mother, since I've only been to France TWICE now. My other language choice is Russian since I am currently obsessed. I want to spy on the Kremlin.

I should go to bed now even if my mind is running a 90-yard kickoff touchdown. What a Super Bowl relief that was! MAKE ME STOP.