Monday, September 05, 2005
The camper cooler (which I bought at the beginning of the summer in lieu of an actual minifridge, which would have been more expensive) died last week, which impedes my lifestyle in the sense that I must eat at the dining hall more often, for it provides the cold drinks I require. I may commence hording fountain water, after acquiring a suitable vessel for it.
Last night/early this morning I worked at Sam's, to which the freshman football players apparently frequent, they living at that particular dorm. They all admired the football shoulder strap necklace thingy I've worn since high school, and one of them (the white guy, notably) told me my necklace was "tight", a term I thought well-antiquated by sixth grade. But he was a nice enough boy.
Sometimes people wonder aloud if my necklace might not be a spatula. Or they inquire as to whether it is from Africa, or if it has spiritual significance. Perhaps it does; I suppose I must allow for the possibility of there existing African football gods, to whom the boys pray for success in such a classic sport film as Remember the Titans.
Anyhow, I came to the computer lab to write the ten-page aqueduct report for that conference I shall attend soon, but encountered the following obstacle: I forgot my pen drive. Also, the printer appears unoperational. Thus I have decided to type here an entry, walk next door to Sam's for a soda pop, then return to the dorm room to construct a very detailed outline, which I may then draft tomorrow morning before meeting Rebekah for lunch.
She turned twenty-two, I believe, this past Sunday, so when I went out with Bianca this weekend, I purchased a gift card to New York & Company, the sort of place Rebekah would frequent. I went there for the first time when I lived in St. Louis, following my cousin, Krista, who shops there because their pants run long (Krista is five-eight, or thereabouts). For occasions when I must appear presentable, I find this store supplies decent tops.
Having diverted myself long enough, I must vanish.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:17 AM]