may 10, 2001. top 5 reasons why my office reminds me of my beloved res room in ferguson house 5. it used to be a res room and still has little res desks and tables where the beds are supposed to go (so obvious that it ranks as last on the list) 4. it's on the third floor (yay rickety res staircase! every time I walk down I expect Dirk to be at the door, waiting to go out to a movie at the Bloor.) 3. the curtains are the same institutional pastel - supremely functional and only a little ugly 2. the window is wooden, white, paned, and opens in a creaky way to show green lawns and university buildings. 1. the bathrooms are co-ed! (and how many boys have seen me in a bathrobe? answer: almost too many) This office makes me very happy. I want to put up cheesy undergraduate posters of Pearl Jam and Dicksee's "La Belle Dame Sans Merci." I want to re-arrange items and fix stuff for maximum efficiency, always a sign that I'm interested in my surroundings. I think this is going to be a good summer. I just spent my whole morning writing & illustrating a file to help undergraduates taking an internet course learn how to crop graphic files. You'd think that I would be cranky & squirrelly...but I really liked doing it. It's raining out our res window today, a cold rain that reminds me not to be fooled by 1 ½ weeks of warm weather. I'm still living on the coast. Kinda. And while it's raining, all I need are indoor tasks to keep me busy. My family left this morning. I'm feeling ambiguous right now - I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed, and I'm looking forward to being the source of interpersonal tension rather than the observer or victim (ha. I'm such a bitch). But their visit never got crazy or inconvenient or tense - at least, not to the degree I'd expected from my memories of Thanksgiving. It really wasn't that hard to sleep on an airmattress in the study. It really wasn't that hard to answer my father's constant questions. It really wasn't that hard listening to my mother's constant good suggestions as to how to run a house. It really wasn't that hard watching Nic fight with anyone and everyone, partly because he made a conscious effort to stop saying controversial things during Monday night dinner (I suggested that he say things that everyone could agree with, like 'fun is nice.' He's a smart wonderful boy, but he's unendingly confrontational, especially with our parents. Listening to the constant hullabaloo gets somewhat tiring.) I'm not being sarcastic. It really was a pleasant visit. When they dropped me off to work this morning and we all hugged goodbye, I felt an unpleasant tug in my heart. I wasn't quite miserable enough to cry, but there was at least a 60% chance that any subsequent sentimental words would tip me over the edge. Oddly enough, Pamie's hangover description fits pretty close: All of us kind of look like hesitant hell. We don't really feel terrible, but we feel like we should and because of that, we're all weak and need food. Just change "All of us/We" to "I" and "look" to "feel." And disregard the part about food. Even my joyful anticipation of seeing all my angels swanked up next week in Edmonton - let alone all of us in the same room since Sally was ordained - is slightly dimmed. But I expect it to return full force in a couple of days. Expect lots of foolish pictures. later I just took a walk across the rain-soaked campus to pick up my new office keys (I'm so important now!!) There's construction going on all over this summer, and one of the campus roads has been marked off with plastic orange snow fencing. So when I need to go in that direction, I'm re-routed to a parallel path of gravel that takes me across the adjoining lawn. Walking that temporary gravel path in the pouring rain was an extremely squishy experience - but in a fun I'm-wearing-big-boots kind of way, not an icky I-will-soon-get-dirty way. It reminded me of the plastic balls in which children wallow about, and that you must be 60 pounds or less to truly enjoy. Fortunately, the temporary gravel path was just as fun without setting a maximum weight requirement. even later, at home My parents called from Quebec. I think they miss me, too. *grin*