Busy Bee
What I’ve been doing:
Attending class. Remembering the old saying, “Biology is chemistry, chemistry is physics” and thanking God it’s true. Realizing I no longer have a hang-up over shouting out answers in class and worrying about being wrong. Time is money people, answer the man and let’s hear his point on the subject.
Driving. Four plus hours on Wednesday by my calculation. Over an hour of that was just sitting in rush hour to make my 6pm lab. From now on, I’ll be volunteering at the sanctuary Wednesdays and coming to campus early to hit the gym, shower, and study so I don’t get stuck in traffic. This week was special as I had just settled ST in to bed post-LASIK. (He’s doing fine, extremely happy with the results so far.)
Begging. I will be in Costa Rica during the final week of class. I need the professor and my lab TA to make some sort of alternative arrangement for me. If I don’t, and just skip the last exams, I can pass the lab but not the class. There also has been some pity-partying going on here, as I’ve felt quite downtrodden with having more and more obstacles put in my path. My TA seems quite willing, and everyone agrees it’s a worthwhile cause, but I haven’t quite got the 100% nod from the professor that he can have things ready for me so early.
Party planning, of the non-pity variety. D and P are moving. After years of bureaucracy, started when P quit his job in New York to return down here for school and tried to work contract, he has received the dream job in his old government department. It’s in Oregon, which is where D’s family is. We have all definitely drifted apart with marriages and babies and whatnot, but many months ago as things settled down D and I returned to our strong connection, just in alternative forms. I know I haven’t adjusted to the idea they won’t be around and I will miss them terribly. This will be the first party I’ve thrown that includes wee ones. Where the hell do you get baby corona bottles?
Beating ST at Scrabble. Baking oatmeal raisin cookies in a lab coat and 3-inch heels. Doing, um, other things in a lab coat and 3-inch heels. Having dinner on the patio. Saying things I’m sure I’ll regret later and not regretting them. Saying things I’m sure I’ll barf over and not barfing. Wondering if I’m losing my edge and not caring.
It’s true. She plays quite a mean game of Scrabble, though she just barely squeaked out the second round. We won’t speak of the first game.
Yeah. I feel your pain.
When she hands your ass to you in Scrabble once, it’s an initiation. When she does it twice, it’s just hazing.