Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Admittedly, I have attained the beginning level of stir-craziness. I look forward soon to some relief, however, for Rebekah might be in town New Year's Eve, and everyone else returns intermittently that week. Jenni promised a date, as well, and hopefully, Bianca will return from Las Vegas in time to play some racquetball. Jared, one of my more "useful" (i.e., he gives me rides places) friends, will probably be agreeable to helping me move my stuff back out of the apartment, and then we can go do stuff. He usually comes up with things to do.
I would like as well to discern the whereabouts of my bicycle. I left it, locked securely (or so I thought) in front of a dorm, but checked a week later to find it missing. Perhaps I merely... misplaced it... perhaps on the dresser in my room, or under my bed, or in a desk drawer.
I took a bath. I am clean. But I have no place to go, and no one to impress. In about two hours, I suppose I'll emerge from my mental and physical dins to ellipticize. The only people at the recreation center during the holidays, to note, are The Aged Ones. Most of The Aged Ones use the step machines or bikes, some lift weights, and not a few play racquetball on a frequent basis. Any one of them could beat me up. The Aged Ones make me more nervous than the "hot" girls, in their coordinated little work-out outfits.
I want ice cream.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:05 AM]