I wish I had more time to tell you about things. I wish I had interesting things to tell you. All the fun, productive crap I got to enjoy over the summer has already fallen to the wayside. We finally got Mario Kart for the Wii and have only played it once. I haven’t seen an episode of The Daily Show or been to my therapist in over two weeks. Audrey and Jay and Scott got me great tools that I’ve been wanting for a while to utilize in crafting and I’ve barely had a chance to look at any of the books or patterns. Yesterday I didn’t even have class, but it was a ridiculously busy day.
As soon as I got home from work I had to start buckling down. What less productive way is there to spend your time than sitting down and reading pages and pages of stuff? I skim through the readings for all four courses, only to find myself saying “I’ve seen this all before.” If it’s for the feminism in art class, I’m reading stuff I’ve seen in Bitch and on Feministing. In anthropology, it’s the same crap I’ve read in five other history, literature, and sociology classes. In Buddhist philosophy, it’s the history of Siddartha Guatama I’ve already gone over in Intro to Religion or the books I’ve read on Buddhism. For psychology, it’s a description of the schools of thought and famous psychologists that have started the first chapter of at least three previous textbooks. Argh!
I couldn’t focus so I checked my email. There was a hysterical message from the girl who’s doing most of the actual site-planning for our reunion. I had to send her a check right away to put a deposit down on a space, she’s telling me, because she’s in the middle of moving, things are crazy busy at work, and she doesn’t have any spare cash. I was supposed to get some money in the mail from the chick who planned the last reunion, but it hasn’t arrived yet.
I check the account balance online, and, to my horror discover Charlie had accidentally made a credit card payment out of that account, rather than the one he usually uses, which is in his name only. So, a check bounced. Suddenly I was running to the bank to deposit cash, writing out a check for the reunion space, trying to find stamps, the dogs are all over the place and need to go for a walk, and I still haven’t finished any homework.
Then Charlie calls to tell me the armoire is in at Pier 1 and he wants to know if I can have everything in the living room taken apart before he gets back. I still haven’t had anything to eat, or walked the dogs, so I take them around a few blocks as I’m calling the new reunion girl to tell her the check is in the mail. I run over to Patachou for a sandwich, and head to the coffeeshop to sit down and force myself to read.
Matt’s there, and it’s the day before his vacation, so he’s completely unmotivated. While I’m trying to read about the history of child psychology, he’s repeating lines from the Borat movie, which he apparently just watched again the night before.
I can’t focus on studying, so I head back home and start rearranging the living room. Once I get tired of that, I finally get some homework done and Charlie gets back. We’re unplugging and moving and dusting and shifting and cleaning things off, and suddenly I feel really nauseous. This is not a new feeling for me. I get nauseated a lot for some reason. Then I’m in the bathroom, dry-heaving and get a nasty headache.
The living room looks great, though.