Saturday wait, and Sunday always comes too late

I bite my nails. I've been very proud of myself lately for abstaining from this particular habit, but after a night at home with the TV and an overactive imagination I am not sitting and admiring the perfectly shaped white tips any more. I'm actually kind of excited to work on this again; I'm a big fan of setting attainable goals for myself. My term papers may even take a backseat for this, I'll be honest. On the subject of bad habits, I re-read Sarah Hepola's Crying in Restaurants series today. (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, and part 6, if you want to read them all... and I suggest you do.) I'm not usually a crier. I get where she's coming from, though. I don't cry in restaurants, but I get set off my the littlest things. I saw a business card yesterday that made me bawl my eyes out for about 10 minutes. I don't think that crying is necessarily a catharsis - a phrase I remember from reading Freaky Friday when I was 10 for some reason - but I sure felt better afterward yesterday. Strange. Anyway, read it.