Wednesday, May 24, 2006
I have spent the past weeks since finals concentrating on various inane activities to avoid over-stressing about my dire financial predicament. I bought body lotion that smells like oatmeal cookies. When I lather it over my body, it makes me want to eat myself. Was noch? I anticipate a trip sometime tomorrow to donate plasma. That supposedly takes about two hours the first time, so I will need to bring a book (or anything to distract me from the indigent Lubbockites).
Tamme, the new head of Deutscher Klub, caught me on Dieter again this morning to notify me of a meeting he scheduled for next week. He and Kuebler (the vice president; in my mind I call him "The Kuebler Elf") are persistent little guys, and I am glad they decided to run things. I loathe responsibility. Next year I have no official capacity and therefore no official obligations. This past year we had a fabulous t-shirt fiasco, whereinwhich the club supposedly ordered some, but received no verification that they would be printed with future reimbursement. It was close to the end of the year before finalizations were finalized, and I think Tamme and The Kuebler Elf are currently working out the order.
Otherwise, I am keeping the office computer open as I await a reply from an e-mail I sent Dr. Lavigne. Meanwhile I am reading. I need to read all the books I bought when I lived in St. Louis and worked next to Borders.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:40 AM]