"The most mysterious thing she had been allowed to investigate on her own, when Jenny was a child, had been the cellar and the great pottery crock which every Monday was filled with clams."

-The World According to Garp, John Irving
today i woke up at 10:30 am. it was amazing to have so much sleep after a hard week. i reheated my spicy black bean burger with avocado and roasted red peppers for brunch. i helped mette clean up from the party and collected many bottles for beth's homemade beer. then i reheated the fries and bread at 350 degrees for seven minutes. they were wonderful with ketchup. i tried to study but daft punk was playing too loudly so i studied at baker berry with keith until we went to the gym. pretty productive i would say - though the couches are too comfy. i curled up in my one-sy and studied biochem and physio. will i ever fully understand? i just can never be too sure. then i was driven home, but not before we took a minute to fully appreciate the full moon.
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"Jenny's mother sprinkled cornmeal on the clams at night, and every morning they were rinsed in fresh sea water from a long pipe that ran into the basement from the sea itself. By the weekend the clams were fat and free of sand, they were growing too big for their shells, and their great, obscene necks lolled on the salt water. Jenny would help the cook sort through them on Fridays; the dead ones did not retract their necks when touched."