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Jan. 21st, 2013 08:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
choco_froshTonight's cleanup of the apartment (before the exterminator drops by for a follow-up visit tomorrow) turned out to take much less time than I'd anticipated. This was partly due to the fact that a good deal of the setup had been done a week ago: the bookshelves were still away from the wall, as was my bureau, for example. I was also being much less hard-core about everything this time, so I hope I didn't forget anything really crucial.
The main reason, though, was that I was planning on spending two hours or so in the laundromat, so as to wash my sleeping bag *properly* before drying it (since I seem to still be being bitten, which in turn would imply that some of the little bastards survived, and have colonized it; but an hour in the dryer on high should take care of that...)
But when I walked in there, with my laundry and my computer, the guy behind the counter told me that they were closing early, for the holiday. "Of course you are," I said. Because it's been that kind of a week. Or that kind of a year.
I was going to say that I can't catch a break, but that's not true. Mercy Hospital decided to have, well, mercy on my financial state and not charge me for my (somewhat unnecessary) visit in October; the ambulance company from the shoulder-dislocation before that did the same, and sent me a partial refund; and my parents are going to spring for a large chunk of...whatever needs paying for, which will hopefully be a bed and some credit card debt, rather than the exterminator's fees. But what I HAVE had is: a seemingly continuous series of crises, where every time I survive (or, frequently, just learn to cope with) one, another one immediately shows up. (Post-holiday blues and shopping merge into frantic syllabus preparation, which is immediately followed by a week of single-parenting, after which I find out about the bedbugs.) And I now have a student whinging about her grade from last semester, but that's minor: I can only hope that this is ENOUGH, and that nothing worse happens tomorrow or Wednesday.
But I'm not counting on it.
Some random jottings from last week:
- When a ham sandwich is the best thing that happens to you all day. [Note: and now I have finished that chunk o' ham--thx again, sovay!--so I don't even have that...]
- When your life decisions start to feel like the free piece of furniture that you picked up, the one that gave you bedbugs.
- Teaching is to me as selling sausages is to Dibbler.
...Speaking of scruffy merchants, I was on MyBobs.com this evening, but it looks like their mattress prices are even higher than Sear's. I need to do more comparison shopping, groan. And then probably hire a truck (again!) to pick it up. At some point in my copious free time.
Well, I guess I have the rest of this evening.
The main reason, though, was that I was planning on spending two hours or so in the laundromat, so as to wash my sleeping bag *properly* before drying it (since I seem to still be being bitten, which in turn would imply that some of the little bastards survived, and have colonized it; but an hour in the dryer on high should take care of that...)
But when I walked in there, with my laundry and my computer, the guy behind the counter told me that they were closing early, for the holiday. "Of course you are," I said. Because it's been that kind of a week. Or that kind of a year.
I was going to say that I can't catch a break, but that's not true. Mercy Hospital decided to have, well, mercy on my financial state and not charge me for my (somewhat unnecessary) visit in October; the ambulance company from the shoulder-dislocation before that did the same, and sent me a partial refund; and my parents are going to spring for a large chunk of...whatever needs paying for, which will hopefully be a bed and some credit card debt, rather than the exterminator's fees. But what I HAVE had is: a seemingly continuous series of crises, where every time I survive (or, frequently, just learn to cope with) one, another one immediately shows up. (Post-holiday blues and shopping merge into frantic syllabus preparation, which is immediately followed by a week of single-parenting, after which I find out about the bedbugs.) And I now have a student whinging about her grade from last semester, but that's minor: I can only hope that this is ENOUGH, and that nothing worse happens tomorrow or Wednesday.
But I'm not counting on it.
Some random jottings from last week:
- When a ham sandwich is the best thing that happens to you all day. [Note: and now I have finished that chunk o' ham--thx again, sovay!--so I don't even have that...]
- When your life decisions start to feel like the free piece of furniture that you picked up, the one that gave you bedbugs.
- Teaching is to me as selling sausages is to Dibbler.
...Speaking of scruffy merchants, I was on MyBobs.com this evening, but it looks like their mattress prices are even higher than Sear's. I need to do more comparison shopping, groan. And then probably hire a truck (again!) to pick it up. At some point in my copious free time.
Well, I guess I have the rest of this evening.
