Lock the cellar door
I love weekends. Especially when the weekend in question is not to be followed up by exams.
Maryanne, Laura, and I went to Spokane yesterday for a day of "pampering." There is no way to say that without sounding: a) pretentious or b) gay. I'm not going to help my case here either, considering we went to a spa and received either facials or a manicure. This was followed up by a delicious lunch (food is not a strong selling point in Pullman which only believes in having two restaurants at any given moment), book shopping, and playing with Laura's little puppy.
I then drove home and watched a movie, cleaned my house, sorted my laundry, and went to bed early. Boring I might be, but I was very contented. God, maybe I am 80.
Some of the relaxation from yesterday sort of trickled away today, as I had to grade midterms, prepare lectures, and write a grant proposal. This was added to by yet another piece of evidence that I must move: my washing machine isn't working. I made it four loads through my wash, so I can't complain too much. But I will. Living in the ghetto sucks.
Another reason it sucks is for the thin walls. So my neighbor is out of town, as evidenced by her car being gone all weekend. Her boyfriend's car was here, but I hadn't heard a noise from their side of the duplex all weekend, so I assumed he was with her. Which led me to sing in the shower. That's right, both "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and "My Way" at full volume. And with plenty of enthusiasm.
I was gearing up for my conditioner-setting, time-killing encore (I like to close with a tear-jerker, and I typically favor Poison's "Talk Dirty to Me"), when I heard the toilet flush next door. Our bathrooms share a wall, by the way. I then heard laughter.
Not embarrassed at all. But I'll be avoiding eye-contact until I move.
Maryanne, Laura, and I went to Spokane yesterday for a day of "pampering." There is no way to say that without sounding: a) pretentious or b) gay. I'm not going to help my case here either, considering we went to a spa and received either facials or a manicure. This was followed up by a delicious lunch (food is not a strong selling point in Pullman which only believes in having two restaurants at any given moment), book shopping, and playing with Laura's little puppy.
I then drove home and watched a movie, cleaned my house, sorted my laundry, and went to bed early. Boring I might be, but I was very contented. God, maybe I am 80.
Some of the relaxation from yesterday sort of trickled away today, as I had to grade midterms, prepare lectures, and write a grant proposal. This was added to by yet another piece of evidence that I must move: my washing machine isn't working. I made it four loads through my wash, so I can't complain too much. But I will. Living in the ghetto sucks.
Another reason it sucks is for the thin walls. So my neighbor is out of town, as evidenced by her car being gone all weekend. Her boyfriend's car was here, but I hadn't heard a noise from their side of the duplex all weekend, so I assumed he was with her. Which led me to sing in the shower. That's right, both "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and "My Way" at full volume. And with plenty of enthusiasm.
I was gearing up for my conditioner-setting, time-killing encore (I like to close with a tear-jerker, and I typically favor Poison's "Talk Dirty to Me"), when I heard the toilet flush next door. Our bathrooms share a wall, by the way. I then heard laughter.
Not embarrassed at all. But I'll be avoiding eye-contact until I move.
posted by Ace | 7:12 PM
2 Comments:
So did you do the encore?
I might have hummed it. In my shower of shame.
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