My gentleman caller and I were hanging out last night, and when it reached 11:30 and no more Virginia Woolf could be absorbed, nor more Latin American history terms memorized, I walked him downstairs to the front door. The living room was pitch black, and so I was naturally startled when a voice emerged from the darkness: “Hello?”
“Uh, hello?” I said, gripping my cell phone, and hoping the screen wouldn’t crack if I used it as a bludgeon.
“Is Joey asleep?” The voice spoke again.
Whew, so he wasn’t after me. I wondered how proficient Joey was with a cellular bludgeon.
“Yes, I think so. I’m sorry, who are you?”
My eyes adjusted, and I could make out a figure laying on the couch.
“I’m Josh. From Minnesotans United for All Families. Joey said it was okay that I stayed over, but the house was dark when I got here, and it looked like everyone was asleep, so I just made myself comfortable. I hope that’s okay.”
“Oh, of course it is. Sorry, I didn’t know we were expecting anyone, but of course it’s perfectly fine. Make yourself at home.”
Then I said goodnight and awkwardly retreated upstairs, shaking my head. Only at Bag End do twenty-something-year-old politically-active visitors show up in the middle of the night to crash on our couch.
In other news, one five-hour copy editing session, two Social Science Office work shifts, two midterms, one two-mile run, and a 3.5 hour car ride are all that separate me from Fall Break.
I can do this.
Funny, but both scenes look equally beautiful to me.
Scenes from today:
1. In which I wake up at 5 am with the worst shin splint of my life. I say “splint” because it was only in my left leg. Apparently, I run cockeyed. Or cocklegged? After whimpering in pain for a few minutes (not my finest hour), I braved the cold hardwood to snatch a bottle of ibuprofen from my purse. I read The Faerie Queen by flashlight while I waited for the sweet relief to kick in.
2. In which I leave my iPhone at home, and am unable to retrieve it until 8 pm. I’m embarrassed to tell you that it felt like I had left a finger at home.
3. In which I learn what it feels like to truly mess up as a student government. And what it feels like to look around the room and to see the same terrified look on everyone’s face. And what it feels like to have to take a deep breath and vote “aye” once again, because there’s simply no other option.
4. In which I decide that breastfeeding in public is gross. I was taking the minutes at a division meeting, grumbling to myself over the sad fact that professors simply think themselves to be above Robert’s Rules, when suddenly the professor at the next table, who had been holding her five-month-old on her lap for the past half hour, stooped to grab a large scarf from her bag. Before I could avert my still-scarred-from-too-much-TLC-in-high-school eyes, she draped the scarf around her shoulders and over the baby, and began the feeding as if there weren’t fifty other people in the room. Gross. I realize that it’s not fair that you should have to be a pariah just because you have an infant, but still. Gross.
Today I awoke, burritoed in a mass of winter blankets, to Spring. Not just the vacation, but to the season itself. It was mid 50s and sunny, and when I opened my window, two bluebirds dropped a crown of daisies onto my head.
Putting the daisies in water, I proceeded to have a quiet, albeit wonderful Saturday afternoon.
I’m taking care of the neighbor’s Beagle while they’re on vacation. He’s fat and grey and quite deaf. But he’s a solid little fellow who wags while you’re getting his lunch, and barks good-naturedly when he wants to come back in from outside. He seemed confused, at first, that the tall neighbor girl was refilling his water bowl, but after I spent the better part of a half hour petting him and throwing his tennis ball, he put his nose on his paws and went to sleep.
At one, Mom and I went to pick up my shiny, glorious Christmas iPhone. I love the thing already, although I’m not used to having a nice phone; it’s terrifying to think that if I drop it, the whole screen will shatter. Additionally, though I’ve always found my fingers rather average-sized, they feel enormous when I try to type out texts and emails. I’m hope I’ll get used to these things soon.
Now that it’s gotten dark and cold again, I’ve retreated to my bed, where I’m pretending to do Statistics and waiting for SNL to come on.