So I made it.
Last week was that most wonderful point at the end of the semester where children sell their books back. If you aren't familiar with such a practice--consider yourself lucky. I think the lightest box I packed was around 60 pounds. And yes--I have to move these suckers. I guess I should count my blessings that I don't look like a Russian body builder or something.
Considering that I really had very high hopes of not going through yet another one of these god-awful-weeks from hell, well, I let myself get pretty pissed off at these kids. (Which means, my friends, it's REALLY time for me to find a new job.) If I had to hear from little Suzy Sunshine or Johnny Man on Campus how "I didn't even use this book...and I still passed." or "You don't have to really read this crap, why bother?" or better yet "The prof tells me everything I need to know to pass the tests...why should I do more work?" my head was going to explode. I'm sorry--higher education is NOT A RIGHT. I'm old school: if you can't appreciate the fact that someone is paying almost 100 K for you to go school-you do NOT deserve to be there. Go work at Dairy Queen until you can appreciate learning. I'm just so sick of people from the age of 16 to 25. Guess what? You aren't special, you aren't the best thing to ever happen on this planet, and your parents need to be beaten for creating monsters like you!
There. I'm done with that.
Now, here's a much better mental image for you: me doing laundry in my freaking skates. A girl has got to learn somehow, and why not in the house? The only thing that sucks is my hallway is rather short, so I'm doing a lot of stopping and starting. Oh! And a word of warning: Carpet = stopping. Stopping very fast, actually. What a thing to learn with arms full of folded clothing fresh from the dryer. I guess the good thing is that they, at the very least, padded my fall. The loverly bruise on my knee and on my lower rib cage? Well..they are finally fading to a delightful shade of putrid yellow. Nice. I'm beginning to think Amy and Brittany may be right: A helmet is probably a good idea. Even more funny was the fact that when I went to get my hair cut this morning, Anthony talked about sponsoring the Roller Derby teams in town and trying to learn to skate. I told him where I bought mine because he was having a hard time finding quad skates and I told him of my antics at trying to teach myself so far. After he stopped laughing, he said I should go talk to the girls, as they might need comic releif in the upcoming season.
Yeah..he's a funny guy, isn't he?
And since I am the clumsiest girl ever, of course it is a fantastic idea for me to go skiing tomorrow....
I'm sorry, just typing that made me laugh. Let's be honest here, Rhea will, in all probability, not be skiing. I will be falling. A lot. So there will be a veritable rainbow coloring my body in the near future. Of course, to go skiing, one needs pants. Snow pants.
Do you know how damn hard it is to find snow pants in this town? I finally found a pair of boys overall thingies in black at wal-mart (shudder....wal-mart mere days before christmas). So I've brought them home for the final test: Do they fit?
Oh. Dear. Jesus.
I look like an overcooked Stay Puff Marshmallow Man with breasts. But they fit. Put the the coat on....my new sensible water proof gloves...top it off with the hat...
And now I appear to be an overfed mental patient who has wandered free of the institution.
So much for looking like one of those cute little snow bunnies on the slopes. Since I can't ski--I had at least hoped to appear adorable enough for someone to stop and help me up when I inevitably fall on my ass.
Crap.
Can't I ever catch a break?
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