The last time I was able to write February 29 on anything, I was a sophomore in college in a new dorm with a new roomie, struggling to get up two days a week for my 8 a.m. journalism class, and getting geared up for an election I was sure would turn things around.
Now, I'm in a new city with a new roomie, where I'm forced to get up much earlier than 8 a.m. five days a week, and currently ignoring the election stuff until it's actually the season for it but still hoping for a change.
And to ignore all this changing going on, and to honor the "leap" in leap day, I leaped like a frog around my living room 29 times.
After 17, I wanted to cry. By 29 I was lying on my back struggling to breathe since I'm sickly and haven't been able to breathe properly all week. 29 frog leaps probably wasn't the best idea, especially as I can't feel my legs right now, but I won't have to do it again for four years. If ever.
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