There’s a dog in my apartment complex who looks a lot like Samson, but with shorter hair and a slimmer body. Her name is Phoenix.
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John got me flowers the other day, and at first I didn’t realize they were sunflowers because half of them were red with purple leaves. The dye in them turns the water purple, but since they’re in a green vase it just looks brown, which is a shame. They almost exactly match the flowers in the painting above my sofa.
Earlier this evening I poured out my daily big-school-bureaucracy angst into a long ranty post, but after I’d put it aside for an hour I realized that no one wants to read a thousand words about how slowly the transfer office processes transcripts.
Instead I’ll foist upon share with you my newest addiction: Numbrosia.
Since my life lately has been all SCHOOL SCHOOL law school apps SCHOOL boyfriend SCHOOL SCHOOL food sleep SCHOOL*, let’s run through my new classes, shall we?
Intermediate Electricity and Magnetism II. Continuation of a course from last semester. Same book, same professor, different room. E&M and I have never gotten along, which is a shame.
If you think that title sounds familiar, you’re probably recalling “What if the fire alarm beeps infrequently” from last January, in which I listed some of the more amusing search terms that led people to this site.
On a whim I’ve pulled up the stats again only to be sorely disappointed. The recent search phrases are nowhere near as interesting as those of a year ago. The vast majority of the multi-word searches, in fact, revolve around the same topic:
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While in Colorado I schlepped myself to the Old Navy outlet and bought a pair of jeans, as my current everyday-jeans have developed several holes, most notably in the crotch*, and became unsuitable for public display three months ago (not that that’s stopped me).
My new jeans are amazing for the simple fact that—get this—they go all the way to the floor, and not a centimeter further. I’ve worn them every day since I’ve been home. When I’m walking, I tend to stare at my feet now; they way my pants fall neatly around my shoes, skimming the ground, makes me so very happy.
Ah, sweet humidity. You don’t know how much you miss it until it’s gone, gone, gone, leaving you with nosebleeds, chapped lips, flat hair, and painfully congested sinuses. The last four nights of the trip John and I slept in a room without a humidifier, and my congestion got worse and worse. The very last night I started a pot of water boiling and set it next to the bed, in the hopes that my stuffy head would clear up enough to let me get some sleep.
I saw many women in Colorado with normal-looking hair, and I wish I knew their secret. From the day we arrived, my hair stuck to my head in flat, limp sheets. I could’ve sworn half of it had plum fallen out, it was so thin. I washed it, I really did! But to no avail. The night we got home it plumped back up to its normal thin-side-of-average texture with no effort on my part. TV tries to tell me that humidity is hair’s archnemesis, but mine seems to thrive in it.
Vacation’s been fun, but I’m ready to get back to warmer climes. As fun as it is to pile on four layers of clothes to get to the grocery store, it’ll be nice to prepare myself for the brutal mid-winter weather by maybe throwing on a light jacket.
We’re flying out tomorrow behind that giant storm that’s on its way from California, so I’m glad there’s lots of football* on tonight that I can watch to keep myself distracted. The biggest challenge will probably be getting from up in the mountains, where all the weather is, to Denver, where the daily high is usually above freezing.