16 April 2009
01 April 2009
oh-ten hundred
Sometimes I get to thinking about time.
This usually happens when the school year is ending, which it is now.
I don't really know what happened. The last two years, since I finished high school, have gone by very quickly.
That actually isn't what I want to talk about. It's the incredible warp that takes place when time and relationships have when they interact.
I lived in Chicago for seven years. There were people I knew the entire time I was there, people I was friends with the whole time. Yet, somehow I was nowhere near as close with them--I didn't know them as well or like them as much--as I was with the people I met at school last year. If I lost contact with one of those old friends it wouldn't be a big deal, it wouldn't upset me, or change my life. If I lost contact with one of my friends from university (which I won't let happen anyway) it would kill me. As with anything there are people I know and am not friends with, but my friends? That would devastate me.
Somehow in a few short months, eight last year and then eight again this year, I met, befriended, and got to know the people whose weddings I'll go to, whose children I'll meet, and who have I'm sure have affected the course of my life staggeringly.
I don't think that two years ago, when I still lived in Chicago with my parents, I was expecting this to happen.
I'm glad it did.
All this is to say that sometimes life throw you a curve-ball, someone tells you something you weren't expecting to hear, and it fills you with joy or sorrow, or results in you spending your evening crying or worrying.
Sometimes you're too far away to do anything about it.
And that sucks.
And when its someone you really care about, sometimes time drags on and on until you hear from them again, and make sure they're really okay.
If you're someone who knows me, and I've met you as an adult, thank you.
If you're someone I don't know, I'm surprised you're reading this.
If you're someone I know but met as a teenager, good luck.
This usually happens when the school year is ending, which it is now.
I don't really know what happened. The last two years, since I finished high school, have gone by very quickly.
That actually isn't what I want to talk about. It's the incredible warp that takes place when time and relationships have when they interact.
I lived in Chicago for seven years. There were people I knew the entire time I was there, people I was friends with the whole time. Yet, somehow I was nowhere near as close with them--I didn't know them as well or like them as much--as I was with the people I met at school last year. If I lost contact with one of those old friends it wouldn't be a big deal, it wouldn't upset me, or change my life. If I lost contact with one of my friends from university (which I won't let happen anyway) it would kill me. As with anything there are people I know and am not friends with, but my friends? That would devastate me.
Somehow in a few short months, eight last year and then eight again this year, I met, befriended, and got to know the people whose weddings I'll go to, whose children I'll meet, and who have I'm sure have affected the course of my life staggeringly.
I don't think that two years ago, when I still lived in Chicago with my parents, I was expecting this to happen.
I'm glad it did.
All this is to say that sometimes life throw you a curve-ball, someone tells you something you weren't expecting to hear, and it fills you with joy or sorrow, or results in you spending your evening crying or worrying.
Sometimes you're too far away to do anything about it.
And that sucks.
And when its someone you really care about, sometimes time drags on and on until you hear from them again, and make sure they're really okay.
If you're someone who knows me, and I've met you as an adult, thank you.
If you're someone I don't know, I'm surprised you're reading this.
If you're someone I know but met as a teenager, good luck.
04 March 2009
Friends?
I continue to repel men. Like bug spray.
Like many young women out there, my primary belief about relations between men and women came from none other than "When Harry met Sally."
I'm considering shifting my guidebook to something more along the lines of "He's Just Not That into You," which as a film doesn't even come close to the genius of Harry and Sally, but as a philosophy...who knows.
Basically, men and women can't be friends.
Except they can because (and this is the part they never tell you) sometimes he really just isn't interested.
I guess I should have been better prepared for this possibility.
Like many young women out there, my primary belief about relations between men and women came from none other than "When Harry met Sally."
I'm considering shifting my guidebook to something more along the lines of "He's Just Not That into You," which as a film doesn't even come close to the genius of Harry and Sally, but as a philosophy...who knows.
Basically, men and women can't be friends.
Except they can because (and this is the part they never tell you) sometimes he really just isn't interested.
I guess I should have been better prepared for this possibility.
01 March 2009
Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!
So my housemate, R, has some friends over. One of them I know and don't much like, and the other I don't know. They're science people. R and C, who was also at dinner, grew up in the great wilderness, on farms. R raises sheep...I don't think C farms animals, but she has pets, which is basically the same thing.
The thing about me is I don't much like animals.
I don't really see the need to distinguish among them. I don't eat pork because it isn't kosher, not because of some belief in the similarities between myself and Babe (or similar.)
The conversation at dinner, I have no earthly idea why, was about dead animals.
The idea of dead animals doesn't gross me out at all. I'm not especially eager to see roadkill up close and personal if you know what I mean, but thinking about it isn't a problem. Then again, I also don't need to brag about my encounters with dead animals. Or animals of any kind. Why? Because I DO NOT CARE. I don't. I believe there is no section of human life about which I don't care quite like animals. And it doesn't have to do with the environment. I actually quite like the environment, I'm not someone who advocates chopping down rain forests despite the animals and birds or whatever that are living there. I just think that the best thing people could do for animals is leave them alone.
I don't know. My brother had gerbils and mice or whatever growing up; every single one chewed through its plastic caging in order to escape. My cousin has a rat now, same exact thing. I watched it last time I was at her house. The thing knows what its doing. It chewed right at the clasp of its cage. It wasn't hungry, it wanted to escape. Dogs are the same, but far, far stupider. I guess I don't mind cats that much. Anyway, I can't imagine really why anyone would want a pet. I just think owning animals and keeping them in cages is sad. Maybe its just me.
In a similar vein, the stranger-girl at dinner was telling a story about people in China eating dogs. Everyone in the room was aghast. Whatever, I don't care. I'd eat a dog if one was put in front of me. Probably I wouldn't eat the whole thing, but I wouldn't refuse to try it on moral grounds.
There was only one person in the room who doesn't eat meat, so I couldn't understand why this group of people who has no objection to eating cows, pigs, chickens, whatever, had such a visceral reaction to the idea of eating dogs. They're dumber and more annoying than cows and pigs.
The evening culminated, basically, in C, who I am very good friends with, trying to tell me a story about how her dog died in November and they couldn't bury it because the ground was frozen. I actually cut her off. I felt bad, but I don't know what the response to "my dog died" is. I had an imagine while she was telling this story of her telling it and me standing there, not sad like she wanted me to be, but just eager for it to end. So whatever, I cut her off. She knows I don't like animals.
I don't think this makes me a bad person either. I think a person who is fine eating beef but can't stomach the idea of someone halfway around the world eating a dog is a hypocrite. I think animals would be better off if they lived not in cages and not with people. My favorite animal is the elephant. You show me a dead squirrel in the street, my first reaction isn't going to be "how sad" but rather "how do I not get squirrel guts on my shoes?" I don't know. People whose pets mean as much to them as their parents do just don't make sense to me.
That is all, end of rant.
The thing about me is I don't much like animals.
I don't really see the need to distinguish among them. I don't eat pork because it isn't kosher, not because of some belief in the similarities between myself and Babe (or similar.)
The conversation at dinner, I have no earthly idea why, was about dead animals.
The idea of dead animals doesn't gross me out at all. I'm not especially eager to see roadkill up close and personal if you know what I mean, but thinking about it isn't a problem. Then again, I also don't need to brag about my encounters with dead animals. Or animals of any kind. Why? Because I DO NOT CARE. I don't. I believe there is no section of human life about which I don't care quite like animals. And it doesn't have to do with the environment. I actually quite like the environment, I'm not someone who advocates chopping down rain forests despite the animals and birds or whatever that are living there. I just think that the best thing people could do for animals is leave them alone.
I don't know. My brother had gerbils and mice or whatever growing up; every single one chewed through its plastic caging in order to escape. My cousin has a rat now, same exact thing. I watched it last time I was at her house. The thing knows what its doing. It chewed right at the clasp of its cage. It wasn't hungry, it wanted to escape. Dogs are the same, but far, far stupider. I guess I don't mind cats that much. Anyway, I can't imagine really why anyone would want a pet. I just think owning animals and keeping them in cages is sad. Maybe its just me.
In a similar vein, the stranger-girl at dinner was telling a story about people in China eating dogs. Everyone in the room was aghast. Whatever, I don't care. I'd eat a dog if one was put in front of me. Probably I wouldn't eat the whole thing, but I wouldn't refuse to try it on moral grounds.
There was only one person in the room who doesn't eat meat, so I couldn't understand why this group of people who has no objection to eating cows, pigs, chickens, whatever, had such a visceral reaction to the idea of eating dogs. They're dumber and more annoying than cows and pigs.
The evening culminated, basically, in C, who I am very good friends with, trying to tell me a story about how her dog died in November and they couldn't bury it because the ground was frozen. I actually cut her off. I felt bad, but I don't know what the response to "my dog died" is. I had an imagine while she was telling this story of her telling it and me standing there, not sad like she wanted me to be, but just eager for it to end. So whatever, I cut her off. She knows I don't like animals.
I don't think this makes me a bad person either. I think a person who is fine eating beef but can't stomach the idea of someone halfway around the world eating a dog is a hypocrite. I think animals would be better off if they lived not in cages and not with people. My favorite animal is the elephant. You show me a dead squirrel in the street, my first reaction isn't going to be "how sad" but rather "how do I not get squirrel guts on my shoes?" I don't know. People whose pets mean as much to them as their parents do just don't make sense to me.
That is all, end of rant.
21 February 2009
A city so nice they named it twice.
Well, I have returned from my reading-week excursion to NYC, where I went with my best friend (B) who is from BC and therefore had not been to New York before.
I have been to New York many, many times before.
It was very different to be there as a tourist, though, and a pseud0-adult one, at that. Strange to be unable to drink when we went to a club for a concert one evening and again when we went out for really outstanding Italian food (the waiter brought us a wine list, at least. He thought we were Old.) We took the subway all the way downtown to see the Statue of Liberty and all the way uptown to see friends at Colombia, who showed us where to get a slice of pizza twice the size of your face. (This was quite possibly the highlight of the trip for me. There truly is nothing like New York pizza.) We went into Tiffany's across from the New York Stock Exchange on Wall Street and, despite our ragged appearances (it was raining) were permitted to look around the store.
We even saw Phantom of the Opera.
And my French Grandmother.
Overall a successful trip.
Though I'm sure it resulted in about the most boring blog post ever.
Sorry.
I have been to New York many, many times before.
It was very different to be there as a tourist, though, and a pseud0-adult one, at that. Strange to be unable to drink when we went to a club for a concert one evening and again when we went out for really outstanding Italian food (the waiter brought us a wine list, at least. He thought we were Old.) We took the subway all the way downtown to see the Statue of Liberty and all the way uptown to see friends at Colombia, who showed us where to get a slice of pizza twice the size of your face. (This was quite possibly the highlight of the trip for me. There truly is nothing like New York pizza.) We went into Tiffany's across from the New York Stock Exchange on Wall Street and, despite our ragged appearances (it was raining) were permitted to look around the store.
We even saw Phantom of the Opera.
And my French Grandmother.
Overall a successful trip.
Though I'm sure it resulted in about the most boring blog post ever.
Sorry.
14 February 2009
Life...or similar.
I'm really not the type to write a mad, feminist, lonely-girl rant about Valentine's day. To be honest, I don't much care about the holiday. I think it's a little amusing that these Saint's days have become so important in popular society (St. Patrick's day is another), but the thing is, I don't really give a damn about St. Valentine, and I don't know if I would even if I wasn't a lonely-girl type.
Last year on Valentine's day the following things happened:
1. Our don (R.A. type dorm advisor) made us chocolate covered strawberries.
2. I got a card from a secret admirer. It turned out that it was from my aunt (not as exciting), but I didn't find out until May. It was a red card with a heart on the front that had been cut out of a map of the area in England I was living in. Inside there was just a question mark. Apparently my aunt had found someone in England who did this sort of thing and told her to leave the inside of the card blank so I could send it to one of my friends. Neither I nor the artisan got this message, though (how would I have known to pass it on?) and so I got the thrill of a potential secret admirer.
3. A tried to send me flowers. He tried to send me roses, his sister told me. I'm glad he didn't, it would have been a terrible waste of money. (He was unable to because he doesn't have a credit card.) After the initial shock of someone actually spending money on me had worn off, I think I would have quite appreciated the gesture. The thing is, I'm crazy about A. He's a guy from home. He's a bit younger than I am, so is still at home. We aren't, you know. Involved. But still, I'm crazy about him. I imagine he is too, if he's trying to send me flowers for Valentine's day. I miss him like crazy, but I guess that's how it goes.
This year on Valentine's day the following things are likely to happen:
1. I will go shopping (for liquor.)
2. I will cook food (actually, a friend of mine is going to cook the food. And drink the liquor, I expect. But there will be homecooked food. Chicken, potato salad and cheesecake. We are healthy people.)
3. My best friend, B will come (HURRAH.) and I will take her out to a bar to show her off to all the people who do not get to come spend the week in New York with us.
4. A may or may not successfully send me flowers. I may or may not successfully recieve the Valentine's package my father sent me on Monday. I may or may not have a secret admirer.
We'll see how it goes.
Thankfully, Jews don't have saints, so my beef with Saint Valentine probably isn't going to affect my chances at a happy life.
Well. We'll see.
Last year on Valentine's day the following things happened:
1. Our don (R.A. type dorm advisor) made us chocolate covered strawberries.
2. I got a card from a secret admirer. It turned out that it was from my aunt (not as exciting), but I didn't find out until May. It was a red card with a heart on the front that had been cut out of a map of the area in England I was living in. Inside there was just a question mark. Apparently my aunt had found someone in England who did this sort of thing and told her to leave the inside of the card blank so I could send it to one of my friends. Neither I nor the artisan got this message, though (how would I have known to pass it on?) and so I got the thrill of a potential secret admirer.
3. A tried to send me flowers. He tried to send me roses, his sister told me. I'm glad he didn't, it would have been a terrible waste of money. (He was unable to because he doesn't have a credit card.) After the initial shock of someone actually spending money on me had worn off, I think I would have quite appreciated the gesture. The thing is, I'm crazy about A. He's a guy from home. He's a bit younger than I am, so is still at home. We aren't, you know. Involved. But still, I'm crazy about him. I imagine he is too, if he's trying to send me flowers for Valentine's day. I miss him like crazy, but I guess that's how it goes.
This year on Valentine's day the following things are likely to happen:
1. I will go shopping (for liquor.)
2. I will cook food (actually, a friend of mine is going to cook the food. And drink the liquor, I expect. But there will be homecooked food. Chicken, potato salad and cheesecake. We are healthy people.)
3. My best friend, B will come (HURRAH.) and I will take her out to a bar to show her off to all the people who do not get to come spend the week in New York with us.
4. A may or may not successfully send me flowers. I may or may not successfully recieve the Valentine's package my father sent me on Monday. I may or may not have a secret admirer.
We'll see how it goes.
Thankfully, Jews don't have saints, so my beef with Saint Valentine probably isn't going to affect my chances at a happy life.
Well. We'll see.
08 February 2009
Weekend.
This is pretty much how my weekend went:
Thursday night, R leaves for New York City. She went to a concert. No R this weekend.
Friday morning, C leaves for Buffalo. No more C. This means I am home alone all weekend with T and M. Apprehension is high.
Friday lunch, eat with M. Mac and cheese. Have a lovely conversation in which she doesn't once bring up his boyfriend and his inability to brush his teeth. M&M (the boyfriend is also M) are kind of a gross couple. More later.
I'm sure that at some point on Friday I try to write my politics essay. I expect it was probably frustrating in the extreme, as not only did I not succeed in writing it, but also I blocked it from my mind.
More Friday afternoon: discover a text from S. She has a date. With who? With the hot guy from the Shakespeare play that everyone has been crushing on for a month. I do not know how this happened, but S is pretty hot and def. has a lot to bring to the table, as it were, so try not to be jealous. (S reads this blog sometimes: I am not jealous of your new Main Squeeze.) Begin to feel down on self because all friends have acquired boyfriends. Just in time for Valentine's day.
Friday evening, get dressed up. Am going to opera. Go to dinner with a friend first. She lives very far away, so I drove to pick her up, and then to dinner, and then to the theatre, where we watched a lovely opera. However, she ditches me immediately afterward for people she apparently likes better. This was offensive, but there were people I liked better there also, so we split. She left her leftover dinner in my car. See S and date at the theatre. They match. Same haircut. Am no longer jealous, they look good together. Am happy for S. Somehow a group of people that includes me ends up going to a bar. This is a group of my friends plus most of the cast from the opera. They are a lively crowd, to be sure. I end up going to the bar with them, despite having no desire to drink (as I drove.) Go. Sit next to a girl who I know who orders a beer, a pickle, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with vanilla ice cream. I am not kidding. The PB&J was pretty good. This group of people disrupts the bar thoroughly, doing everything from singing "La Vie Boheme" to pole dancing. Good times, I suppose. End up driving people home. No surprise.
Later, at home. Manage to put my friend's leftover dinner in the fridge and leave mine sitting out next to the fridge.
Proceed to watch television with housemate, T. Ended up with Grey's Anatomy, which I hate. The plot: He was going to ask her to marry him. Nothing to make me feel good about myself like television engagements. Went to bed.
Saturday
Wake up. Remember that S has a Main Squeeze. Go back to bed.
Later, wake up. Rembmer I'm supposed to be writing a paper. Go downstairs, excited about leftover thai from last night. See it sitting not in the fridge. Throw it out (was chicken.) Die a little. Make bad rice with soy sauce. Eat. K calls, she is downtown. They have beavertails. Am jealous. Don't, however, go downtown. Return upstairs. N messages, saying she wants lasagna. LASAGNA? Seriously?
Later, discussion about lasagna has continued. N and I have decided to make the following:
Humus and vegetables. Lasagna. Garlic bread. Brownies.
Realize my oven is broken. Die a little more. Message K, ask to use her oven.
Later, have writting paper (not.) K shows up bearing gifts of a beavertail. Joy abounds.
K and I drive in car to her house. N meets us, we go to the legit grocery store (there are three in town, one sucks a lot, one sucks a little and one is fine. The fine one is far away, I have to drive. Fortunately, I have the LRS, and can drive. Also, I deserve this, as I am afraid of grocery stores.) Spend an hour buying lasagna supplies.
Return to K's to use her stove. Unpack supplies. Discover that her housemates are on carb-free diet. Pity them outwardly, but irony is such that laugh at them inwardly. Also, do not like K's housemates. And we were eating 100% carb meal.
Cook. Successfully. There were three of us, and we were a little snippy, I will not lie, but we cooked and it was good. Then we consumed. A lot. A nauseating amount. Basically, we practiced True Fat Kid Behaviour.
Later, Cleaned up, packed up, dropped K at Rx's for a movie, dropped N at home. Came home. Was alone. Worked on paper.
Later still, rediscovered once-fave television show, BIG LOVE. Is outstanding. Watched three episodes. Not productive.
Also discovered that I potentially have an ear infection. Thrilling.
Sunday.
Get up. Work on paper.
Lunchtime, go to breakfast in the caf. Am sitting with people (K, N, etc.) S's Main Squeeze comes over and sits near us. I "met" him the other day, so I think he eyed me but did not say anything.
Go from breakfast to meet S to see New House. Discover that in fact Main Squeeze had seen her not long before. Am embarassed about not saying hello.
See New House. Like it better than last time. Am assigned room I wanted. Hurrah. Do a dance. Discover that it overlooks nightclub. Am thrilled...ish.
Return home. Do chores (eg, sweeping, vaccuuming.) Vaccuum explodes in my face. Take shower.
Later, begin paper. T and M are not home (joy.) Am successful re: paper. Wanted to finish by 9. Finish by 9:30. Took a break for leftover lasagna, though, did not count.
Halfway through paper realize that house is freezing. Go downstairs for tea, discover that nobody turned the heat on today. Thrilling. Was 13degrees celcius. This is cold. We normally keep it at 18. Turn up the heat. Perhaps higher than necessary. Finish paper.
T and M come home just as I am finishing.
I almost cry.
R messages to say she is delayed, will not be home until 4am.
I have a Russian midterm tomorrow at 10. I have not studied.
So that was my weekend.
Thursday night, R leaves for New York City. She went to a concert. No R this weekend.
Friday morning, C leaves for Buffalo. No more C. This means I am home alone all weekend with T and M. Apprehension is high.
Friday lunch, eat with M. Mac and cheese. Have a lovely conversation in which she doesn't once bring up his boyfriend and his inability to brush his teeth. M&M (the boyfriend is also M) are kind of a gross couple. More later.
I'm sure that at some point on Friday I try to write my politics essay. I expect it was probably frustrating in the extreme, as not only did I not succeed in writing it, but also I blocked it from my mind.
More Friday afternoon: discover a text from S. She has a date. With who? With the hot guy from the Shakespeare play that everyone has been crushing on for a month. I do not know how this happened, but S is pretty hot and def. has a lot to bring to the table, as it were, so try not to be jealous. (S reads this blog sometimes: I am not jealous of your new Main Squeeze.) Begin to feel down on self because all friends have acquired boyfriends. Just in time for Valentine's day.
Friday evening, get dressed up. Am going to opera. Go to dinner with a friend first. She lives very far away, so I drove to pick her up, and then to dinner, and then to the theatre, where we watched a lovely opera. However, she ditches me immediately afterward for people she apparently likes better. This was offensive, but there were people I liked better there also, so we split. She left her leftover dinner in my car. See S and date at the theatre. They match. Same haircut. Am no longer jealous, they look good together. Am happy for S. Somehow a group of people that includes me ends up going to a bar. This is a group of my friends plus most of the cast from the opera. They are a lively crowd, to be sure. I end up going to the bar with them, despite having no desire to drink (as I drove.) Go. Sit next to a girl who I know who orders a beer, a pickle, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with vanilla ice cream. I am not kidding. The PB&J was pretty good. This group of people disrupts the bar thoroughly, doing everything from singing "La Vie Boheme" to pole dancing. Good times, I suppose. End up driving people home. No surprise.
Later, at home. Manage to put my friend's leftover dinner in the fridge and leave mine sitting out next to the fridge.
Proceed to watch television with housemate, T. Ended up with Grey's Anatomy, which I hate. The plot: He was going to ask her to marry him. Nothing to make me feel good about myself like television engagements. Went to bed.
Saturday
Wake up. Remember that S has a Main Squeeze. Go back to bed.
Later, wake up. Rembmer I'm supposed to be writing a paper. Go downstairs, excited about leftover thai from last night. See it sitting not in the fridge. Throw it out (was chicken.) Die a little. Make bad rice with soy sauce. Eat. K calls, she is downtown. They have beavertails. Am jealous. Don't, however, go downtown. Return upstairs. N messages, saying she wants lasagna. LASAGNA? Seriously?
Later, discussion about lasagna has continued. N and I have decided to make the following:
Humus and vegetables. Lasagna. Garlic bread. Brownies.
Realize my oven is broken. Die a little more. Message K, ask to use her oven.
Later, have writting paper (not.) K shows up bearing gifts of a beavertail. Joy abounds.
K and I drive in car to her house. N meets us, we go to the legit grocery store (there are three in town, one sucks a lot, one sucks a little and one is fine. The fine one is far away, I have to drive. Fortunately, I have the LRS, and can drive. Also, I deserve this, as I am afraid of grocery stores.) Spend an hour buying lasagna supplies.
Return to K's to use her stove. Unpack supplies. Discover that her housemates are on carb-free diet. Pity them outwardly, but irony is such that laugh at them inwardly. Also, do not like K's housemates. And we were eating 100% carb meal.
Cook. Successfully. There were three of us, and we were a little snippy, I will not lie, but we cooked and it was good. Then we consumed. A lot. A nauseating amount. Basically, we practiced True Fat Kid Behaviour.
Later, Cleaned up, packed up, dropped K at Rx's for a movie, dropped N at home. Came home. Was alone. Worked on paper.
Later still, rediscovered once-fave television show, BIG LOVE. Is outstanding. Watched three episodes. Not productive.
Also discovered that I potentially have an ear infection. Thrilling.
Sunday.
Get up. Work on paper.
Lunchtime, go to breakfast in the caf. Am sitting with people (K, N, etc.) S's Main Squeeze comes over and sits near us. I "met" him the other day, so I think he eyed me but did not say anything.
Go from breakfast to meet S to see New House. Discover that in fact Main Squeeze had seen her not long before. Am embarassed about not saying hello.
See New House. Like it better than last time. Am assigned room I wanted. Hurrah. Do a dance. Discover that it overlooks nightclub. Am thrilled...ish.
Return home. Do chores (eg, sweeping, vaccuuming.) Vaccuum explodes in my face. Take shower.
Later, begin paper. T and M are not home (joy.) Am successful re: paper. Wanted to finish by 9. Finish by 9:30. Took a break for leftover lasagna, though, did not count.
Halfway through paper realize that house is freezing. Go downstairs for tea, discover that nobody turned the heat on today. Thrilling. Was 13degrees celcius. This is cold. We normally keep it at 18. Turn up the heat. Perhaps higher than necessary. Finish paper.
T and M come home just as I am finishing.
I almost cry.
R messages to say she is delayed, will not be home until 4am.
I have a Russian midterm tomorrow at 10. I have not studied.
So that was my weekend.
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