Prepoceros

I slept right through the quadruple extraction, which ended up taking only thirty minutes. John came in and sat with me in the recovery room for twenty minutes, of which I remember about two. Apparently I was pretty goofy, which really makes me mad I forgot my video camera. I was totally planning to post a video like this one.

John says I lamented not bringing my camera several times, and I also repeatedly stuck my fingers up my nose while mumbling something incoherent through my gauze. He only later realized that I’d been trying to tell him I’d had a nasal cannula.

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Some people living in my apartment complex, or maybe their friends, have a strange habit of leaving food and associated debris in the parking lot. I don’t mean empty wrappers or fast food bags that might have blown in from elsewhere; I’m talking about half-eaten dinners carefully placed between parking spaces, as if someone had eaten a meal in their parked car, decided they were finished, and set the remaining food on the ground before driving away.

It’s a chore to keep Sam away from the leftovers on our morning walks. None of it is probably inherently poisonous, but he’s probably better off not stuffing himself with people food, especially when the first half of that food was eaten by apparently-crazy people. Nine times out of ten*, when he darts off between two cars, he’s spotted half a hamburger or a milkshake or a box of mostly-eaten chinese food or a run-over dinner roll.

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Me: This chicken tastes different. What’s in it?
Mom: Pork.

Year three. Remember year one and year two? [Read the year one post if you have no idea what I’m talking about.] Walking into the Nutcracker Market feels like a time warp. The same booths in the same locations, the same free food, the same slice of upper-middle class Texas walking around in its glitter camo pants. The only thing that changes is the entry price: up a dollar every year.

My mom and I both wanted to take it easy this year, so we went after 5, when the tickets are half price. All the booths were still open, the free dips and spreads were still flowing, everything was good. We were there for about two hours, which I think is just enough preholiday shopping madness for me, especially since I’m still getting over this dizziness thing (I still had to stop once for a nice sit to steady the world again).

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I expected to get my LSAT score back on Monday, but it came in today. On this test, you could miss one question and still get a 180. I missed both of the questions I thought I might miss, plus two more through mistakes I made—not careless mistakes, but mistakes nonetheless. My score was a 175.

On (what was, IMO) the hardest Logical Reasoning question on the test, I stared at it for a good minute, put down a plausible guess and circled it, then came back at the end of the section to stare at it for three or four minutes more. Just as time ran out, I got a flash of insight into the problem and furiously erased and rebubbled my answer.

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Still no internet. Friday morning, 8:00. Bring it, AT&T.

LSAT scores, I learned today, will be emailed July 2. Twiddle twiddle.

You know the LOLcats*, but are you dork enough to have seen LOLastronomy? I’m wishing there were more, as I rack my brains for a contribution of my own.

How is it the second half of June already? That’s, like, almost the middle of summer. Summer passes too quickly; I’m enjoying it as furiously as I can.

Last night John and I went out for Indian food. Mmmmmmm. Best leftovers in the world, IMO.

If you’d like a tour of my new apartment, I made my dad a video.

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* Check out the latest kitty. An apt time for a link, no?

Now that I’ve spent the last hour and change on an entirely different post, my wireless card has decided it doesn’t want to play with Linux any more. Wordpress usually saves my drafts automatically, but apparently it didn’t think that one was worth it.

All is not lost, no worries. I saved the post as a text file, but I don’t know* how to get it over here to the Windows side of things, i.e., the side that understands the wireless card’s deep emotional needs. Or however computer stuff communicates. Magical unicorn energy.

For now I would like to mention the Chocolate Raspberry Cream Cheese Muffin.

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Today, on my way across town, I stopped at Starbucks. Not because I was craving sugar and calories and sweetsy goodness, certainly not, but because I have decided to use my blog for a little community service. For my community of readers. Yes, both of you.

Here’s the plan: I try the crazy seasonal things Starbucks invents, I tell you about them, and you don’t have to waste your time and money on the yucky ones. I provide this service free of charge and free of bias (though if SB wanted to comp me a few lattes, I’d sell out superfast). If I ever wind up in court on some minor public nuisance charge, perhaps the judge will count this hour as time served.

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Gritten? Gritted? Grit. This is the South, after all.

I have 1500 more words to write about Polybius, then 2400 more about Sallust and Plutarch. Then I really ought to learn some PDEs before tomorrow’s exam.

Suddenly I feel compelled to organize my kitchen. I can see the mess from here. I would also like a chili cheese coney and many many tater tots and a hot fudge sundae and some chocolate cake and a donut.

I will not get up. Will not will not will not.

I have them.

Well, I don’t have them personally, but I know where they are. And yes, I’m sorry to say, they’re deceased.

A few days ago, as I was waiting for my dog to lay claim to several bushes in a row, I noticed a single dead honeybee lying on the ground. I found this odd, as you don’t normally see bees out cold on the pavement and I hadn’t seen any live bees around, but I didn’t think much of it.

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