In Which Stinkbugs are Evicted, and I Continue to Live in the Art Library

My poetry class was in rare form today. We listened to "Paper Planes" by M.I.A so our 70-ish year old professor could analyze the lyrics, drew a large diagram of people spooning, chased a stinkbug out the window, I broke an electrical outlet, and we all pondered the age old question: "Do mosquitos ever die with honor?" ("Very few," my professor said.)