Sorry about not posting yesterday; this week has been like a perfect storm of small amounts of tragedy that mix together to make a Long Island Iced Tea of despair.
–The bus route is going through its awkward teenage years, trying to reinvent itself, but remaining confused and unsure of what its peer group wants. At least, that’s how I’m interpreting its persistent, erratic behavior. The first day it was just massively late every time I tried to ride it, which is not that surprising on the first week of school. Then one afternoon at a random stop in the middle of the route, the bus driver told everyone to get off because she was done. It wasn’t an off-shift kind of thing–those happen at the end of the line–and we were all forced to wait FORTY MINUTES for the next bus–the two that should have come in the intervening time apparently having stopped off somewhere for after-school aperitifs. Or the happy times when the bus mysteriously fails to change direction at noon as it should, and I am forced to walk in a pack of my disconsolate cohorts along the side of the road. Walking in the sweaty, sweaty heat is kind of annoying, but not the end of the world. However, it’s throwing havoc to my carefully balanced schedule.
–My advisor is going on sabbatical the semester I’m supposed to be writing my Master’s Paper. Since I’m “aggressively competent” this will probably not adversely affect me to the extent it may some people, but it still means that I will 1) have to do a lot more work more quickly and 2) plead my case to the few remaining professors who care about things like public libraries or books way more aggressively than should be necessary. I mean, whose idea was it to only have two professors who are remotely interested in children and teens? I’m feeling the love.
–Once again, my classes only have vague relevance to my future career path. After yet another summer spent working in an actual library doing what I actually plan to pursue, this is even more aggravating than before.
–Our apartment is broken. We haven’t been able to use the shower for two days. Since Steven was going on one of his “if I wash my hair too much it’ll fall out” kicks even before that, it is a smelly, smelly world.
–Everything I eat or drink lately has a weird metallic taste. It took me forever to realize that I’m not dying of arsenic poisoning and that it’s just our dishwasher not washing the soap entirely off our dishes.
–I finished Hunger Games in like five hours yesterday and, despite loftily thinking myself immune to pop-lit trends, am now desperate to read the sequels. My choices are: wait three months on the library request list with all the other teen girls or pay money. I am in an agony of anti-BigBoxBookStore, cheapskate, frantic teen girl indecision.
–Steven keeps beating me at our jury rigged two-person version of Settlers of Catan. My honor is furious.
Hopefully I will at least be able to sort out the last two today.