Doggie Daycare

Ever since moving to Raleigh, any time we've gone out of town, we've taken the Dog with us. This was partly because we love him and want him to be with us, but it's also in large part because we haven't been able to find a decent kennel. And by "decent," I mean "a place that will remember to feed the Dog, but also cost less than $25 per day." But as you may have gleaned from reading other posts about the aforementioned Dog, he's not exactly the best behaved animal in the world. And as he lived with my mother for 6 years before coming to live with me, she knows all about his bad behavior and as a result, he is no longer allowed to visit her house.

So since we're planning to visit her in two weeks, finding a kennel became a fairly pressing issue. Since I know from experience just how impossible THAT task happens to be, I gladly passed it on to McMoose. And of course, he very quickly discovered what seems to be the one kennel in all of Raleigh that seems (a) not horrifying and abusive and (b) not ridiculously expensive. Except that this place? It gives "treating animals like babies" a WHOLE new meaning. Because while the base cost of boarding the dog is reasonable, the extras that you can add on are the dictionary definition of CRAZY.

For example, you can pay for your dog to get a midday and midnight snack. And for a special plush bed. And for a "climate controlled" run outside (which I'm thinking probably means "shielded from the rain"). And for your dog to be tucked in at night, complete with a goodnight HUG. And, AND for a wall-mounted TV that plays dog themed movies at certain times of the day. Is it just me, or does all this seem a little bit...excessive? I love the Dog and all, but...he doesn't really CARE about movies. In fact, when he hears a dog barking on TV, he sighs, rolls over, and goes back to sleep. And most of the time, I don't think he even LIKES being hugged. So really, the only option I want to add on is "please try to keep my dog alive for the 4 days that he'll be with you and if at all possible, don't let any of the other dogs beat him up." That's all I ask.

Statistically Speaking

My advisor created a survey about scientists. And then, we had lots of people fill out the survey, and now, my job consists almost entirely of looking at the results from these people that filled out the survey. And my conclusion is that human beings? Are NUTS. Seriously, they make no sense whatsoever. Because if they made sense, they would not say that in their opinion, scientists are both organized AND disorganized. Or that scientists are both technically competent AND technically incompetent. Because really, HOW CAN YOU BE BOTH? And yet, somehow, in the minds of the people who filled out these darn surveys, you can indeed be both popular and friend-less, all at the same time.

So my job this week is to try to decide which of these crazy people actually believe what they're saying on the surveys and which ones just didn't read the questions and marked down random answers. Which means that I've been combing through the 130 responses to almost 200 questions. Which means that my head? Is THIS close to exploding. Because in case I didn't mention it before, the answers, they DON'T MAKE SENSE. And next time, we should give this survey to computers instead because I bet you a billion dollars that computers would answer the questions consistently.

The Usual Ramblings

-McMoose has the day off today. I don't. Granted, I'm only working until noon, which is now only an hour-and-a-half away, but the point remains that he got to sleep in and I didn't. And the point further remains that he gets to be at home RIGHT NOW and I don't. And the point further remains that I'm used to being the one who has a lot of time off, so this turnaround feels very strange to me.

-There was a time, 3 summers ago, when I thought "Hey, kittens are really cute. And I like them a lot. So I'm going to get one." So off I went to the shelter, where I chose the loudest little kitten there was, and I was so worried about his health and well-being that I trained him to sleep on the bed near my feet so I could check on him throughout the night. Which was fine when he weighed a pound, but now that he has increased that weight by a factor of 12, it's no longer fine. Especially now that I'm waking up every 30 minutes because I just CAN'T GET COMFORTABLE, it's very much not fine. But apparently, old cats refuse to learn new tricks like, say, sleeping on one of the eighty other soft surfaces in the apartment, so instead, we play power games all night long. And generally speaking, he wins.

-Apparently, all the professors who usually teach classes on Fridays in this building have decided that the weather is too wet and gloomy to hold class today, so there's no one here. Not one single person. In fact, the elevator hasn't even been making its habitual grumbling noises because it HASN'T BEEN MOVING. At all. All day. I feel like I'm in a ghost town. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to see tumbleweed blowing across the hallway.

Where's The Fire?

I got chased down by a firetruck this morning. I was driving, the road was busy (and only had one lane going each way), the firetruck got behind me, I panicked and turned into an Arby's parking lot...and the firetruck TURNED IN BEHIND ME. With lights flashing and horn blaring. So I thought okay, the fire is in the Arby's building so let me just go ahead on out of the parking lot and onto the side street...and the firetruck followed me AGAIN.

By this point, my entire body was dripping down a cold sweat and I was on the verge of a panic attack because when you've been trained for 8 years to GET OUT OF THE WAY of emergency vehicles and then one fine day, you find that no matter what you do, the emergency vehicle is behind you, you tend to get a little nervous. So I continued down the side street, which was both one-way and very, very narrow, so there was no place for me to pull over. Finally, I decided the best plan would be to pull into the nearest driveway...and GUESS where the fire was. Go ahead. Take a stab at it. If you guessed that it was in the house belonging to the driveway I pulled into, you get a shiny gold star for being well-versed in the evil schemes of Irony. Suffice it to say that I did not make it to class on time this morning.

The Dog has long since proven himself to be Most Untrustworthy in terms of being left in a room alone, so as a result, our apartment is gated and situated such that he is never allowed to be out of sight from us, ever. That way, when he tries to pull up the carpet or pee on the floor, he can't use the "But I thought you couldn't see me" excuse. And when McMoose and I are out of the apartment, Dog gets to spend quality time in his kennel. So you can imagine my surprise when I got home this afternoon and found myself greeted at the door by excited, doggy kisses.

My first thought was that maybe McMoose had worked from home today, but after a thorough search of the apartment (and a glance out at the parking lot), that did not seem to be the case. Then, I thought that maybe we forgot to put him in the kennel this morning, but after a thorough search of my memory, that didn't seem to be the case either. So I'm left now with the following questions: How did the Dog, who is sorely lacking in opposable thumbs, open BOTH the latches on the kennel door? How did the Dog, who can barely hop into my car, jump OVER the baby gate that has been set up to prevent him from wandering from the office (where the kennel is located) into the living room (where the Dog was located)? And perhaps most importantly, how is it possible that the Dog was wandering free in the apartment, but the trash had not been disturbed, the furniture had not been chewed, and there was no objectionable material on the carpet?

Just Peachy

I tend to be fairly conservative in terms of Trying New Things, especially when those New Things are actually New Foods. So this afternoon, when I went to one of my favorite lunch places and ordered one of my favorite items on their menu, I decided that I'd be a little adventurous and try one of their little fruit drink things. And since normally, the only juice I drink is apple, I decided to go even further out on the limb and try mango (because let's face it, pineapple is just too strange and banana? HOW DO YOU JUICE A BANANA?)

The can was all orange and ice cold and just generally appealing and I noticed it said "Juice with Fruit Pieces," and thought the whole thing sounded very interesting, so I hurried back to my office and popped it open. Let me just start by saying that almost immediately, I was beginning to regret this whole venture because the juice? It resembled egg drop soup. And it was yellowish brown, which is not at ALL the color I associate with mangoes. But it smelled mango-ey and delicious, so I decided to put my fears aside once again.

At first sip, something seemed odd. I took another sip. And a third. And then I realized: the bits of fruit floating around in my juice? They tasted nothing like mango. So upon closer inspection of the ingredient list on the can, I found out that the breakdown of the drink was like this:
-10% mango juice
-50% peach smush
-water, asorbic acid, citric acid, etc.

So...my mango juice was actually PEACH juice with a little bit of mango flavoring added in. And also, what exactly is "peach smush?" I mean, is that really the best, most technical term they could find to describe the stuff?! But with that said, I gotta tell ya--next time I go back to that restaurant, I'm totally getting more of this weirdness. Maybe I will try the banana after all.

Cancellation Tribulation

About three weeks ago, I made an appointment with a doctor, and then heard some very bad reviews about that practice, so decided to cancel the appointment. Now, making that appointment is on my list of Top 10 Easiest Things I've Ever Done in My Life. Cancelling it was a whole 'nother story. I called about 2 weeks ago to cancel and spoke to a very confused sounding person, and that conversation went something like this:

Me: Hi, I have an appointment for such-and-such a day and I'd like to cancel it.
Receptionist: I can't do that.
Me: You...can't cancel appointments?
Receptionist: Well, hold on, maybe I can.
Me: ...o...kay...
Receptionist: What's your name?
Me: Anisha LastName
Receptionist: I'm sorry, your appointment is with Dr. Scott and I can only cancel appointments for the other doctors.
Me: Um. Really?
Receptionist: No wait, I found a button that says cancel. I think it worked.
Me: Great!
Receptionist: Yeah, I think your appointment is cancelled, but call back tomorrow to make sure.
Me: Ok. Sure.

Since I am the queen of procrastination, I did not call the next day, but decided to wait until just now. And THAT conversation went something like this:

Me: Hi, I had an appointment for such-and-such a day, and I tried to cancel it 2 weeks ago, but the person I talked to wasn't sure if it was actually cancelled or not, so I'm just checking back.
Receptionist: Ok, what's your name?
Me: Anisha LastName.
Receptionist: No, it didn't get cancelled...in fact, you have 4 appointments scheduled back to back.

So...the first receptionist pushed the cancel button and instead of cancelling the appointment, three additional ones popped up? And also, don't you think that someone at that office should have gotten suspicious that the same name showed up on four consecutive appointment times?

What's the Road to Hell Paved With?

I left work at noon today, with a large stack of work and every intention to spend the afternoon at my computer on the couch. Except...you know where this is going, right? By the time I actually got home, I felt slightly more alive than roadkill, so instead of working, I ate lunch and went to sleep--not so much because I was tired, but rather as a way to make time pass. And when I woke up two hours later, I was feeling soooo much better. Until I stood up. So what I've realized is that I feel sick if I stand. Or sit. Or move. Or blink. In fact, the only time I DON'T feel sick is when I'm lying on my stomach on the bed with my head propped up on the foot board with blankets. And I'm not sure if you're aware, but that position right there? Not really conducive to entering numbers into a spreadsheet.

And two more hours later, when I finally had gathered up the will to sit up straight with my papers spread around me and my computer on my lap, know what I realized? That a few weeks ago, when I desperately needed immediate access to Microsoft Word, McMoose gave me a CD of software to install and that CD did not include Excel. Which means that all the good intentions and the monumental effort that it took for me to get to this position have all gone to waste. Needless to say, my current mood is most optimistically described as "Grumpy."

All About the Animals

Who's excited for the Thursday bullet post??? Me! So without further ado...

• The cats have, indeed, made a hole in the bottom of the box spring. And now, they both climb INTO the box spring. And they fight each other. Inside the box spring. It's ridiculous and disruptive and really startling when the bed suddenly starts moving around beneath you. As a result of all this box spring Boxing (hehehe), McMoose has started keeping a pair of heavy winter gloves and a wooden stick next to the bed, so that when the cats get in there and start acting foolish, he can poke and prod and pull at them without sustaining grievous injury. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but in reality? The plan was a miserable failure and the only way to get those darn cats out is to bribe them with treats. So now, not only do they have the upper hand, but they're also going to get fat.
• As a result of the atrocious behavior on the part of the cats, they have been banished from the bedroom at night. Which I thought would be an excellently good thing because one of them tends to stretch out at my feet, and then attacks me if I dare to move at night. So I was very excited at the prospect of getting a full nights sleep without feeling claws digging into me at some point. Except that what actually happened is that the Dog took over the cat's spot and BIT ME when I moved my feet. And it took every ounce of self-restraint I had to not bop him on the head when I felt those sharp teeth sinking into my poor, sad ankle.
• In the past, the Dog has chewed holes into our blankets. Today, I woke up to find him completely entangled in his own holes--paws stuck through one hole, nose and mouth through another--and I gotta tell you, I didn't feel bad. Not even a little. Because if you're gonna chew holes through blankets, you should be prepared for the day that karma bites back.

To Print or Not To Print?

About a week ago, I noticed that whenever I sent a document to the printer, the printer just sort of ignored it and stuck its thumb out at me. And since I'm not altogether motivated to investigate problems related to computers and printers, I decided that, hey, you know what? I don't need to print things. No...in fact, it's a GOOD thing that the printer doesn't work because...now I get to be more environmentally friendly. And I can just read things on my little laptop screen. Nooooo problem.

Until my boss informed me that she would NOT be reading my thesis proposal on a computer screen, so I'd better print it out. My first response, of course, was to moan to my office mate about the how the darn printer hated me and the tech support guy is always out of his office. My office mate very sensibly pointed out that perhaps I should just unplug the printer. And then plug it back in. So I did. And GUESS WHAT? It works now. That's all it took. So here's my question: WHAT IN THE WORLD was wrong with it in the first place, that all it took to fix it was to pull the plug? Because doesn't that seem like the end-of-the-rope, tried-everything-else, head-is-about-to-explode solution?

But in any case, it works now. Or rather, it worked for about 20 minutes yesterday. Because when I tried to print something today, it printed every other line. What the heck kind of error makes it print EVERY OTHER LINE? I just can't even BEGIN to understand this stupid machine.

I'd Forget My Head...

I've been having some issues with scatterbrained-ness lately. Apparently, the start of the new semester has left me even less organized than I usually am because every where I go, I lose things and forget things and just generally walk around like a confused mess. Last week, I convinced McMoose to go with me to the supermarket at 10 pm one night because I was out of tea and of course, life cannot go one without tea, right? So we went and bought more kinds of decaffeinated tea than I ever knew existed, plus some coffee, plus some milk. And when we got home? I discovered a brand-new, UNOPENED box of tea sitting in my pantry. Which I had apparently bought just a few days before. And which I had COMPLETELY forgotten about...actually, I STILL don't remember having bought that first box.

And then, the VERY NEXT DAY? I bought another gallon of milk. Because of course, can't have tea without milk. And I had forgotten that we had bought milk not 24 hours earlier. So now, we have more tea AND more milk than any two people need, ever. And also? More string cheese. Because my fear of running out of string cheese was second only to my fear of running out of milk, so I bought a second bag even before I finished the first. And yesterday, it occurred to me that string cheese is NOT GOOD, which means that it will probably sit in my fridge for the next twelve or thirteen years.

And yesterday, I put the cupcakes in the fridge and the milk in the pantry. I keep locking the cats in various rooms. I keep forgetting to call the cable company, who's trying to charge me extra money for a cable box THAT I ALREADY RETURNED. And just 10 minutes ago, I left my keys in my boss's office, and if she hadn't realized that fact and returned them to me, I would've been stranded in my office until McMoose could come and pick me up five hours from now and that would've resulted in a Very Grouchy Anisha.

Who Needs A Pause Button?

Last Friday, I left work (a little bit) early because I had three things on my to-do list that had to be done by 1 PM this Tuesday and I was pretty confident I could finish all 3 of those things up today. Plus, I was excited about the furniture coming and there was no one else in the office and I was lonely. And perhaps most importantly, I was STARVING. So this morning, I came in to find a post-it note that I had oh-so-thoughtfully left last week to remind myself of the 3 things I had to do. (Yes, I write notes for myself. I also send myself emails. And sometimes I leave myself messages on my phone. NO, THAT DOES NOT MAKE ME WEIRD.)

And about 10 minutes into the morning, my boss sent me an email giving me four EXTRA things to do by 1 PM tomorrow, which of course sent my head from "Calm" to "THIS CLOSE To Exploding" in about 15 seconds. So instead of responding to email and checking the weather for the next 5 days and *maybe* playing a quick game of sudoku, like I usually do, I jumped straight in to my work. Turns out, that was completely unnecessary as it is now 1:15 PM on MONDAY and I'm done. With all 6 things that I wanted to finish by this time tomorrow. And furthermore? I accomplished this Great and Miraculous Feat while dealing with (a) a printer that REFUSES TO PRINT, for the LOVE of GOD, (b) a computer that freezes up EVERY 17 SECONDS and (c) a wireless Internet connection that likes nothing more than to disconnect and reconnect when I'm working on something absolutely vital.

So...I'm thinking that the most feasible explanation for all of this is that somehow, I've found a glitch in the time-space continuum and as a direct result, time slowed down by about 3985% this morning, allowing me ample time to get through my to-do list. And I'm also thinking that I'm leaving (a little bit) early again today.

A Very Exciting Day

I forgot to do my weekly bullet post yesterday, so instead, here it comes today:

-We got new furniture! Yayyy! This means that (a) we're going to actually have to start eating at the table like civilized folk, instead of munching our meals in front of the TV and (b) I no longer have to worry about cockroaches climbing in my ear while I'm asleep. Except that it seems it would be easier for cockroaches to climb up the wooden bedposts than the mattress itself...so maybe I have to worry about it more now?

-The cats were most displeased about all the ruckus. They cowered, they shied, they hid. And now? They've both discovered that the new bed is high. And moreover, that they can now get UNDER the bed, which means that any day now, they'll be making a hole in the bottom cover of our box spring. I give it 48 hours.

-The furniture delivery man huffed and puffed up the two flights of stairs, and then grumbled at me about my choice of living on the third floor. Trust me, Mr. Delivery Guy, we moved a WHOLE APARTMENT worth of stuff up those stairs. We KNOW it was a bad decision. But at least there are no heavy-footed people walking around above us.

-I slept for 10 hours last night. And right now? There's nothing I'd enjoy more than a nice, long nap. If I were a bear, I'd be getting ready to hibernate right about now...I count this as further evidence that I should have been a bear.

Out of Mind Experiences

Over the week or so, I've been very passionate in my moods. Which isn't to say that I've been the least bit STABLE in them. I've gone through the spectrum of sad to happy, hopeless to unrelentingly optimistic, angry to ambivalent. And seriously? I would like to STOP IT NOW. Because this? This being moody all the time? This constant shifting from The-World-Is-Wonderful-And-I-Love-Life to Damn-Everything-And-Everyone-I-Just-Want-To-Be-Left-The-Hell-Alone? It is absolutely, undeniably EXHAUSTING.

On Tuesday, I was anxious and antsy and convinced that the world would come to a crashing, fiery end within the next 12 hours. On Wednesday, despite the fact that it was raining and miserable AND despite the fact that I could barely keep my eyes open, I was in such a beyond-good mood that I could almost hear the Angelic Host. Seriously. That's how thrilled I was with life.

And today, I feel normal. Like an actual, everyday human being. Or so I thought. Until I realized that it isn't that my emotions aren't crazy and out of control, it's that my emotions are curiously absent. I found out that my (favorite) office mate is moving to a different building...I wasn't sad. I found out that the vending machine now stocks WHITE CHEDDAR POPCORN, which I have loved since the age of 8...I wasn't happy. I'm just...even. Calm. Stepford wife-ish, if you will. And as exhausting as the constant mood swings were, this flatness is just so much more boring. At least when I'm being overly pessimistic, I can tell myself to SNAP OUT OF IT PLEASE, YOU'RE BEING RIDICULOUS. And when I'm being overly optimistic, I can go along and enjoy the day because really, what else are you going to do? But this calm, stable person whose presence has been so scarce lately? What in the world am I supposed to do with HER?

In Which I Resort to Sarcasm (Again)

This morning, as I was walking to my office, I came upon three men handing out bibles to passing students. And of course, I refused one because (a) there are plenty of bibles in the house and I don't need to waste paper by taking another one and (b) I very purposely don't read the ones I have already. Why in the name of all that is sensible would I want more? Of course, when I chose not to take one, the leader of the group decided that what I needed was to be told about how HIS god would be able to save my life. Excuse me. HIS god? Interesting...I had always thought god owned humans, but apparently, I had it all backwards...silly me!

And really, I felt bad for these men. Because it was hot. And there was a 90% chance of rain. And there they were, dressed in suits and ties and shiny shoes trying to bring religion to the poor, uncivilized youth of America. And I wondered if there had ever, EVER been a situation in which one of these poor, uncivilized youths had thought to herself (or himself, as the case may be) that, "Hey. Here's a 60-year-old man who is dressed in a suit that probably cost two entire months' salary for me. Here is a man with whom I have nothing in common. Here is a man who looks like he should be playing bridge with my grandparents. And look! He's handing out shiny, green bibles. Let me transform my life, change my beliefs, and repent my sins so that I too may one day be able to hand out bibles on a college campus."

Ethicality of pushing religious conversion aside, it seems entirely unrealistic to me that a person who is strong in his or her beliefs will be transformed simply by being given a little green New Testament that is so small that the print can barely be read without a magnifying glass. Maybe someone who is having a crisis of existence could be more easily swayed, but even there...I'm just not convinced. So. If you were a 60-year-old man, what in the world would possess you to stand on a college campus handing out bibles? If you wanted to make a difference in this world and spread the message about YOUR god's greatness...aren't there better ways to do it? Volunteering in a soup kitchen? Donating money to the cause of having children in foreign countries vaccinated against easily preventable diseases? Things that actually, oh, I don't know, MATTER? Just a thought.

Vehicular Weirdness

Today has been a very odd day in terms of on-the-road activities. First of all, it always throws me off on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when I leave home an hour later than on other days and so I miss the friendly school crossing guard who sits on a lawn chair on the side of the road and waves like he's on a float in the July 4th parade. So today, like always, I looked for him and he wasn't there and I remembered that it was Tuesday and then I glumly went on about my driving. Until! A teenager zipped down the sidewalk on Rollerblades, pulling a Very Large Dog in a little red wagon. And since that's exactly the kind of thing that perks me up, my day instantly got about 20 times better.

And then, I get to campus and a highly rude driver cut me off and turned left in front of me. In all fairness, I do usually let people turn in front of me at that particular intersection because otherwise, the opposite side of the road gets all backed up and I feel bad for them, but still. I don't like when other people just ASSUME that I'm going to let them turn in front of me. When that happens, it brings out the mean, ugly side of me that honks and thinks very bad thoughts.

So while I was thinking bad thoughts and driving around the DARK parking deck looking for a spot that wouldn't require me to walk an extra mile, an extremely unintelligent human being who was dressed all in black decided it would be a good idea to cross the street DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME. In the dark. Wearing black. Oh, and did I mention it was dark? As it turns out, my brakes might squeal horribly, but they do work extremely well. Luckily for him.

The first spot I found was unusable because the car next to it had parked over the line and there was no human way that I could wedge mine into the space. The second spot I found was unusable because there was a girl standing in the middle of it, presumably saving it for someone. The third spot I found was usable, but quickly, illegally, and unethically snatched up by THE SAME RUDE DRIVER who had earlier cut me off. So I parked in the fourth spot, which as luck would have it, turned out to be BETTER than the first three spots. So ha! Take that, Person Who Can't Park, Annoying Girl, and Rude Driver. Oh, how I do enjoy karma.

Roaches and Ants and Gnats, Oh My!

So when we first moved into our current apartment, we were quickly confronted by cockroaches, which freaked me out to no end. In fact, my desire to own things like a bed became much stronger as a result of the roach incident(s) because to my way of thinking, the more distance there is between me and the floor (aka, the domain of the Roach), the better it is for all involved. Fortunately for me, aside from one incident a couple of weeks ago when a roach hopped on my foot and made me hop about 5 feet in the air, these particular nuisances haven't been back.

Notice how I said these particular nuisances? That's because other nuisances have made their presence very well known. Ants, for example. As of yesterday, we have ants in our bathroom. Lots of them. And they're not even in a line, so there's no way of telling where they're coming from. All I know is that I have no fewer than four ant bites on my feet and I am most displeased. And gnats. I think the last time I bought bananas, a couple of gnats hitched a ride from the supermarket because now, they're buzzing around the living room. Granted, there are only a few of them, but that doesn't endear them to me any more.

Since I'd really like to be rid of both the ants and the gnats, I asked around at school to see if anyone else had these problems. Turns out Raleigh is the insect capital of the civilized world, because EVERYONE had an insect story to share. And you know what the common thread of all these stories was? THERE'S NO WAY TO GET RID OF THEM. Super.

School Zones

When I was in high school, we lived in Illinois, about an hour north of Chicago, so that's where I learned to drive. And near-Chicago drivers? They're really good at avoiding accidents at high speeds, but not always so great at following speed limits. If people in Raleigh made it their job to drive as fast as the near-Chicagoans did, there would probably be about five times more auto accidents here than there currently are.

Up until recently, I held this slow driving pace against the Raleighans. (Raleighers? Raleighists?) Because let's face it, it's no secret that I'm (a) impatient and (b) usually running late, so I like driving fast-ish. I say fast-ish because I'm not one of those crazy people who go 30 mph above the speed limit while weaving in and out of traffic. I don't have a death wish. But I also don't like being stuck behind people who don't appreciate the fast-ishness. I mean, seriously. If you're doing 30 in a 55 zone, you're just putting yourself in danger of being beaten to death with a golf club.

But I have come to realize that there are SOME instances when the slow Raleigh pace is a good thing, school zones being the example that comes most readily to mind. Now of course, all states have school zones and increased fines for speeding in a school zone and all that. But in Illinois? Not too many people cared. And every time I walked to school, I knew that I was essentially playing a high stakes game of chicken with every car on the road, most of which sported "My child is an honor student at such-and-such a school" stickers.

Here in Raleigh, it's a whole 'nother story. People actually SLOW DOWN in school zones. To 35 mph. Sometimes even 30 mph. The crossing guards don't fear for their lives. And very young people skip merrily across the crosswalk, confident in the knowledge that local drivers care more about not killing them than they do about making it to that 9:30 meeting on time. And I have to admit, it's very pleasant.

Running Hot And Cold

Seems to me it's time for another bulleted post, so hold on to your hats, here we go:

• Apparently, my physiology classroom is just bad luck for me because last week, I left my cell phone in there and this week, I lost my watch in there. However, the luck must not be ALL that bad because so far, I've found all the lost things.
• I brought a microwave meal for lunch because (a) I didn't want to have to walk all the way to the sandwich place, just to get another sandwich with the wrong toppings on it and (b) Amy's microwave meals are DELICIOUS and I had a dream that I was eating one last night, so of course I had to go straight to Food Lion this morning. My office mate, who is also a big fan of Amy's was able to guess BY THE SMELL FROM THE MICROWAVE which meal I was making. I'm seriously impressed.
• I stepped on yet another nail today as I was walking across campus. I feel like grave-injury-to-foot-due-to-carelessness-of-construction-workers is a fairly good reason to sue this darn university.
• My right arm is so hot it feels like it's about to melt into a puddle of goo. My left arm has goosebumps and if it could move of its own volition, it would be shivering. As a result, my right arm is sitting on the cold surface of my desk and my left arm is wrapped in a sweater.

Jumping Out Of My Skin

I had a childhood friend who, when asked if she was Black or White responded that she was "brownish-tan." I always liked that description and have come to consider myself Brownish-Tan as well. And one of the benefits of being Brownish-Tan is that the sun? It's not so much a problem for me because I don't burn all that easily. So I can wander around outside for as long as my heart desires without worrying that I'll turn red and peel and ache and all that. And it's nice. Very, very nice.

McMoose, on the other hand, is best described as "translucently pale." If it weren't for the reddish-brown hair and the blue eyes, I might very well believe him to be a vampire. And he takes pride in the knowledge that his ancestors were Vikings who wore cool hats. (I take pride in the knowledge that my ancestors had better sense than to wear horns on their head, but maybe that's just me.) And he burns. Badly. When we went to the state fair last October, he wore his hat backwards and as a result, had a red semi-circle on his forehead for days from where there was an opening on the hat. We have a giant dispenser of aloe, specifically designated for him to use when he burns.

And yet, when we went to a football game this past weekend? I burned. He didn't. My nose is peeling, my arm is blistering, and every time I've been out in the sun since then, I've felt like my skin is about to burn OFF my body. AND HE'S PERFECTLY FINE. Now I've heard about married couples starting to look like one another but this? This is taking it a bit far, I think.

Why I Prefer Email...

I've had several encounters with automated phone systems lately and I gotta tell ya--they've been fun. Of course, what I mean by "fun" is "so completely ridiculous that you have to wonder what's going on with the world." The first system was to activate a debit card and it was....interesting. I'm thinking that whoever came up with it was probably highly sadistic because here's how that *conversation* went:

Automated system: If you want to activate your Visa check card, please press 1 now.

Me: *presses 1*

Automated system: If you want to activate your Visa check card, please press 2, then pound now.

Me: *presses 2, #*

Automated system: If you want to activate your Visa check card, please press 1, then pound, then 1 now.

.......see? Sadistic. My second experience was this morning, when I called a doctor's office to make an appointment. Remember back in the day, when you'd call the doctor and the annoyed receptionist would pick up? I miss that annoyed receptionist. A lot. Because here's the alternative:

Automated system: Welcome to the so-and-so medical center. If you want to make an appointment, please press 1.

Me: *Presses 1*

Automated system: If you want to make an appointment for a routine physical, please press 1. If you want to make an appointment for a prescription refill, please press 1. If you want to make an appointment for our such-and-such clinic, please press 1. If you want to make an appointment because you are bleeding or have lost consciousness, please press 1.

And at this point, I hung up the phone because DID YOU HEAR THAT LAST OPTION? How am I going to be making a phone call if I have LOST CONSCIOUSNESS? Now maybe what they mean is "If you have lost AND REGAINED consciousness recently, please press 1." But if that were the case, don't you think you'd be dialing 911 instead? And also, notice anything strange about those options? Like maybe the fact that you're supposed to press 1 for ALL of those things? Which means that ridiculous list of options is COMPLETELY superfluous and the only reason to include it is to waste the patient's time? The patient who, by the way, might be bleeding and unconscious?

A Night's Tale

I'm writing this post at 8:20 in the morning. More to the point, I'm writing this post at 8:20 in the morning ON LABOR DAY. Which is a holiday. Which means that I could still be sleeping right now. Instead of which, I've already been awake for an hour-and-a-half, which means that today? On Labor Day? When I could have slept in? I actually woke up AN HOUR EARLIER than I would if it was a normal workday. In fact, for a person who was exhausted all day yesterday and who was counting down the hours until bedtime, my sleep was woefully interrupted all night:

11 PM: went to bed (an hour early because my eyes refused to stay open any longer).
2 AM: woke up feeling hungry. Tossed. Turned. Told myself that I was being unreasonable. Eventually fell back asleep.
3:15 AM: woke up feeling hungry. Tossed. Turned. Told myself that I was being absolutely ridiculous. Couldn't fall back to sleep. Drank a GIANT glass of water in order to trick my stomach into thinking I had eaten an entire turkey. Fell back asleep.
4:15 AM: woke up because McMoose was grumbling LOUDLY in his sleep. Came to the stark realization that maybe there's a good reason why people don't normally drink 12 ounces of water at 3:30 in the morning. Went to the bathroom. Went back to bed. Realized that I was still hungry. Counted hamburgers until I fell back asleep.
5:45 AM: woke up, still feeling the after effects of the water. Another trip to the bathroom. Ate a cookie to curb the hunger. Fell asleep fairly quickly.
6:50 AM: woke up feeling hungry AGAIN. Decided that this whole thing was just ludicrous. Got out of bed. Ate some dry cereal. Worked on my thesis proposal and was STUNNINGLY productive (Yay for me!).
8:20 AM: wrote this blog post.

So, ok. I didn't get to sleep in until noon, as per my original plan. But I DID get a lot done, considering that on any other day, I'd still be stumbling around half-asleep at this time of day. But the problem with all of this? I'm still tired. And also? I'm unreasonably jealous of McMoose, who stayed asleep during all of this. So now, I'm going to go make loud noises in the bedroom in the hopes of waking him up. Right AFTER I have some more cereal because OH MY GOODNESS, THE UNSTOPPABLE HUNGER!