The following takes place between 3:30 pm and 5:00 pm on a Friday.
As it turns out, it is a Friday and I do not want to study for biochem 613 and so I won’t. I should, I really should, given that I did super shitty on the midterm, but apathy reigns mighty in my life, and thus I do not care, especially right now.
The rain and cold of November has finally hit. Most of election week 2008 was sunny and delightful. Election day itself was the peak; nature perhaps was resplendent in response to the glories of democracy. Yet, for some reason, every time I think of politics (in general; not specifically the recent election, though that was a PAIN, all my programs being interrupted by Republican fear-mongering and Democratic feel-good rhetoric) my mind sort of clouds over and a gentle fuzzy snow falls in front of my eyes, such is the level of my “I-could-care-less.” Yes, I KNOW that blaa blaa blaa the future blaa blaa blaa dependent blaa present blaa blaa straight-talk express on the highway of hope. But really, I’m done. Now NPR on Monday and Fridays can go back to yammering about Iraqi insurgents or whatever.
Meanwhile I am useless. Oh, and I hate centrifuges. I’m using the small one today, the one I’ve managed to not break yet, though I’m fairly certain it’s only a matter of time before someone does. And with my luck it shall be me. The thing has a habit of yelling at me for being unbalanced, even after fifteen minutes of meticulous adding/subtracting of water until the weights match to the hundredths of a gram. Then when I remeasure it will still be the same weight. Also the lid is questionable, sometimes it doesn’t lock in place and sometimes when you start the rotor it kind of wavers up and down like it’s flapping in the breeze. It makes me nervous, which isn’t good, as I’m already skittish around these things.
My other job also progresses well. I am barista extraordinaire (you have to be kind of a moron NOT to be) and Kate and Shelly and I decided that we will be bedazzling our aprons. I just need to find the bedazzler kit that Caitlin Anne got me for what I believe was my 17th birthday. Oh, good times.
There is a diffusion bag being stirred right now and watching it revolve slowly in solution gives me unparalleled joy that I cannot even begin to explain to a rational person. It is so hypnotizing… hypnotoad!
Microsoft Word does not accept hypnotoad as a real word. Clearly the writer of this dictionary programme never watches Futurama. Which is also not a word. Other things that aren’t recognised as words: bedazzler (but not bedazzle), remeasure, blaa. Just in case you were curious.
Good news I managed to kill time doing pointless tasks I make for myself. Anyway so Elizabeth is gone this weekend (as she is for so many) and so I have the apartment to myself. I enjoy the large amount of personal time I have in this place. Not that Elizabeth is irritating or that I throw parties, but it’s pleasant to be able to listen to music/ television as loud as I want with minimal consequences.
Speaking of which, may I just say, whatever oversight by our rental company allowed the people above us to have a dog, I hate them. I love dogs, don’t get me wrong. But did it ever occur to anyone that in a tiny two-bedroom apartment in a college campus, having what sounds like a Great Dane running around is not ideal. Particularly if you choose to play fetch with it at 2:30 in the morning.
Given that I don’t have anything to say, I’m going to stop saying things.
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