Ok, so first, I'll do what I always do. Complain/tell about my day. Then we can get to the real post. So today my back was feeling better. I wasn't coughing as much. I felt pretty good. Then I went to PE. Today was fitness day, which is where you spend half the day running or jogging, and the rest of it playing basket ball, dodge ball, or badmitten. Wednesdays and Fridays are fitness days. Well, today, we ran the Pacer. (Which was created by the devil.) The Pacer is where you run across the short side in the gym. Today I could have done like... maybe 10. We had to do 25. I didn't quit though, cuz then points would have been marked off. By the 12th run across (To that stupid elevator music playing at you, and the stupid lady's voice going 10... 15... everytime we ran 5 across) I felt like I was going to throw up or faint. I didn't, though. I just kept running, even though the muscle I pulled in my back was starting to hurt even worse, and soon it was over. I spent the rest of the period sitting out. Then I went to band, to sit up strait, plant my feet, hold an instrument up, and blow while coughing and trying to breathe. The good news is, I did very well on the chair test. Mr. Band Teacher told me so. The bad news is, I could barely play the entire time and the *UNNECESSARY LOUDNESS* of the drums, bari and tenor saxophones, trumpets, and the rest of the lower voices (Not including me) gave me a headache. Now for the real post.

I'm going to give a brief description of where I lived from the age of 4 to the age of 11.
It was flat, and anything that wasn't was made of concrete, dirt, or cow poo. At the age of about 8 I knew my way around the town. I was never allowed to go anywhere, though. But I didn't really care. It was BOILING hot. We had a pool, and a big yard. There were 4 rooms. Me and Delaney shared a room. It was a nice place, even if there were no trees. Well this has taken about two hours to write. I'm going to try and sleep now. Bye everyone.