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june 19, 2001.I want candy… Yesterday was blurst day of the summer. I wake up late, drag my ass into some new clothes and trip over to work. 20 minutes into the day I spill a huge amount of water onto the keyboard of my laptop. D'oh. My office mate (tech support for this department) suggests that I prop it in front of the fan. I do so and walk down to the post office to mail presents, since I can't do any work. When I get back in an hour, I'm told to take my computer to user support right away. I am hot & sweaty. It's been raining all day and I can't ever get comfortable. All I want to do is take off my shoes and sit down. So I put my computer in my backpack and walk down the hill again. 3 hours later I went to pick it up. "I had the 'live fast, die pretty' computer," I said cheerfully. "I don't know how pretty is was when it died," said the man. "Sign here." 5And they didn't give me a copy of the receipt. Since these are personal computers, I have a bad premonition that they're going to hold me personally responsible for the money. Of course, if I had a job in a normal university I wouldn't have to take personal responsibility for a crucial & expensive piece of work equipment. My boss is sympathetic but can make no promises. 500 big ones. Do you know who much sushi that would buy? When I set up the computer at my desk, I discovered that the network plug wasn't working at all. I called down to user support again, who asked me to bring the computer down to see them. !!!!! Still hot, still cranky and increasingly tired, I put my shoes on again and loaded up. Down the hill. Hand it over. "We're going to tear it apart again. It should take an hour." blink. blink. I sit there with my Ende book until it's ready to go. I walk up the hill once more. As I was setting up, my boss asks if she could get a copy of the receipt. I call down to user support. "We can photocopy one for you if you drop by." I hang up and turn to my boss. "If I have to go down there one more time I'm going to go bonkers." I say quietly, but with conviction. She smiled. "Go tomorrow," she suggests kindly. And I will.
This little play concluded at 3:30 p.m. My work day shot to shit, I did what I could and then trudged up the hill one final time. It took me 2 hours of complete immobility before I felt even remotely human. By 7 p.m. I was tired of moping and decided to bake. I was supposed to create apple bran muffins last weekend, but I was sunk far too deep in my own laziness to do so. It proved to be a fun departure from thoughts of debt, and I mixed & measured happily until the Boy came home. As I spooned the mixture into little paper cups, he chopped & mixed a huge salad for dinner. We ate out of the mixing bowl and had muffins for dessert. Vege-licious. After dinner I chivvied & harangued the Boy until he agreed to dye my hair black. Truth be told, I was amused by his bitchiness rather than upset by it. He can be so cute when he's recalcitrant. Eventually I played the trump card: 'Look,' I said, smirking. 'If I had any girlfriends here I wouldn't ask you to do this. But you're all I got. You have to come clothes shopping with me and you have to dye my hair.' He bitched some more. 'May I remind you that it was your idea to get married so that we could be together in Nova Scotia? Now stop whining. You asked me and I said yes. So let's go dye my hair.' And of course, as soon as we were well and truly underway, he had a great time. Silly bitch. He did a great job; my hair is an even, glossy brown-black. Now all I need is a nightclub, a Cure song and a pout. Yea late-blooming goth! Tonight I'm going straight from work to a barbeque hosted by Hermione & crew. Meat Meat Meat! I can't wait.
this time 1 year ago: the granny routine |
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