January 8th, 2003

Nescafe rabbit

To sleep, perchance to dream...

Iwona took me home today, after only 3 hours of class and a financial aid lecture. We talked some.
She's not happy - she's having trouble in her marriage...if it weren't for the kids, she says, she'd be divorced most likely. I didn't know. I wish I could do something.
I, on the other hand, have a marvellous husband who came home grumpy and perked up after I made faces with the broiling pan at him. We had fish. I feel like Gollum.

There's ice and snow melting off of the roof and falling down the tiles. It hits the air conditioner with a loud "Thump", or occasionally a "Crash". It's kind of unnerving, if not downright frightening.

Daddy came home today, from France. He brought me a journal with covers of bark, and a beautiful pen with ink cartridges. And a bottle of Alsatian Riesling, and some Cote du Rhone. And he's home. I missed my daddy. I just wish he hadn't had to come back to a pile of bills that were all due yesterday and today. It hurts, hearing him toss a magazine offer into the junk pile, saying "I don't have twelve dollars..." But he's making it. Somehow, God always seems to take care of him. I just wish it weren't so fucking last-minute.

I don't know how I'm going to survive this semester. I can't stay awake in class for the life of me. Doesn't seem to matter if I get enough sleep or not. Maybe it's just my whole out-of-shapeness kicking in.
There's a fencing class, at the Parks Department, starting Jan. 30th. We are so there. Exercise, fun, and pointy objects. In English, unlike the last time I took fencing. Hallelu.
  • Current Mood
    aggravated aggravated
Nescafe rabbit

Mumble mumble mumble...

Angel rolls over in bed this morning. "What time is it?" I pick up the alarm clock. "Mmmh. 8:30." Beat. "Fuck."
Note that class begins at 8:30.
I had to wait for him, because he's my ride, and Angel's just not quite as good at getting ready to go in a hurry as I am. At least he wasn't as slow as usual. I can get my shower done and be putting my contacts in by the time he's ready to take a shower on a normal morning. Why I insist on him showering first is a mystery. Probably because I'm lazy.

I got there in time for the Spock jokes. There's a disease (whose name I've promptly forgotten) that affects only smokers, which involves a constriction of small vessels, necrosis, and winds up in the fingers falling off. And Dr. Smith made a crack about elves and hobbits and Spock, and how Bones was just apoplectic, and they had to do ear reconstructive surgery..."Dammit, Jim..."
Next up: respiratory medicine. Oh, how I loathe this life of vile servitude.
  • Current Mood
    rushed rushed