I have things planned. I have things going, you know. I have offers.
I want to make this because I ate it, and it was delicious. It’s called Chicken Parmesan Soup. I am ready for soupy weather.
I want my door to look like this. Instead I realized the wreath I made was for a much shorter door. It’s sort of like when you have a little kid, say 18 months, and then you have a new one. When you put them together, the first one looks like a human raised by elves. My wreath is a puny newborn. I am ashamed.
Instead of all that, I will probably be working on a new seating chart, lesson plans, and attending a staff BBQ where the phrase curriculum map would be considered a swear.