I could not decide whether or not to go to Bible study tonight. Heavy snow, unplowed roads, and a pile of law review articles needing screening argued against it. But on the flip side, I’m missing trivia this week and trivia and Bible study make up my social life.
I crept up the stairs in the hallway outside my apartment to get a better look at the weather. A sense of melancholy filled me. I thought about my lack of social interaction this week and the long, dark future stretching before me…
And then I realized that my future was in Spanish and the stirring, melancholic music in my head was not in my head but coming from my neighbor’s apartment.
I’m not really sure if that means I secretly think my life is a movie worthy of background music or if I just always hear melodramatic music when making minor life decisions. Probably both.
Bethany turned on the heat last night. I know without checking because:
First, it feels like a sauna. Our apartment heater doesn’t do nuance. It is either off or 80 degrees. No in-between. (And trust me, we have tried. It just simply won’t kick in if you set it any lower than 80.)
Second, even if I wasn’t sweating like a pig, I can hear the ghost. I’m 99.9% sure our heater is haunted. I don’t hear it from the living room, but as soon as I go into my room, it begins. It starts off with a creaking noise, like someone opening a door. And trust me, when you are lying in bed and you know you left your closet door open but you hear…
It is more than a little freaky. Then the rattling begins.
It is probably just the metal heaters shaking, but it sounds like someone rattling their prison bars.
And then, just in case you weren’t paying attention, the heater makes a banging noise.
And it makes this cacophony about every ten minutes while getting back up to temperature. I’m a fairly sound sleeper, but nights we have the heater on means waking up at 2 am for no readily ascertainable reason until all of a sudden your sleepy brain hears…
And that is why Bethany is going to have to freeze tonight.
People assume that because I read an enormous amount, I am good at trivia.
Fun fact: I am not good at trivia.
At least, not bar trivia. I know nothing of sports, pop culture, geography, or music. And guess which topics dominate?
Some friends invite me every few weeks to join their trivia group and I go and I usually provide nothing to the team. At most I can claim a knowledge of history, but one of my teammates is a far bigger history buff than I am and usually knows the answer. (Though, actually, once, several glorious months ago, I answered a sports question: it was pole vaulting. And I suppose the one time a law question came up, I got that too)
But last night…I did it. I knew the answer to the question and no one else at my table did. Such a moment of triumph. And the category? Literature.
So if you ever need someone who can recognize an Emily Dickinson poem at your trivia night, I’m your woman.
Pastor: *during children’s sermon* “And how do we get to heaven?”
Children: “We DIEEEEEEEE’!”
Me: “Well, they are not wrong.”
Bethany: *smacks me*
“The chicken!” exclaims Bethany at 9 pm.
I look at her in horror, suddenly realizing we left it the oven for over an hour when we only meant to warm it up!
“When did you turn on the oven?” I ask.
“I didn’t!” she says, “didn’t you?”
“No, I thought I asked you to turn on the oven!”
“No, I asked you to!”
We turn to the oven. It remains stone cold. But at this point, neither of us wants to eat. We snacked on hummus and chips while waiting for the chicken to cook. Or really, not cook.
So, no real dinner for us. On the bright side, we didn’t burn the apartment down.
As I referenced yesterday, the place I stored my stuff this past summer started billing me again. My lease ended in July. Needless to say, I told them so. They said they had no record of my lease ending. I declared more adamantly it had ended. They then responded with the following e-mail:
We would like to apologize for this inconvenience. We would like to invite you to the office on Friday October 25th to resolve the matter.
Kind Regards, etc.
That, I told Bethany, sounds suspicious. I think I am going to get kidnapped by the mob. As usual, she ignored me.
I went today braced for anything ranging from a kidnapping to the commencement of a lawsuit. (To a hammer, everything looks like a nail. To a law student, everything looks like small claims court.)
I marshaled my arguments carefully (if not my documents.) I wore business professional clothing. I went full-out with my makeup. (Thereby making me look 14 instead of 12.) And I boldly showed up 5 minutes early.
Whereupon the smiling young lady behind the desk handed me an envelope full of cash and apologized very politely for the inconvenience.
You could have knocked me over with a feather. Even though the cash amounted to the amount I was incorrectly billed, I still kind of feel like I just accepted hush-money.
It is about time for my annual jog. I can feel it in my bones, a restless need to move that is more psychological than physical. I respond to it by running really hard for a short time and then the feeling goes away. I am free to be my own lethargic self for another year.
Except unfortunately I do not have time right now to go for a run. By the time my daily activities end, it is dark. And I do not run in the dark. So the feeling continues.
Tonight, when I realized I missed my bus and the next one was still 25 minutes out, I turned to my law school friend who was also waiting for the bus and lives nearish me and asked if he wanted to walk to the next bus stop. I figured it was a win-win. I’d get my exercise and not freeze my butt off standing in one spot and since I was walking with someone, and a guy at that, I could worry less about getting mugged.
Except, maybe you’ve noticed this, I can be kind of intense? So once we hit the next stop and the bus was still 20 minutes out, I suggested we kept walking…
Then the bus passed us before we made it to the next stop.
Being the reasonable person I am, I suggested we walk the rest of the way back. What I did not realize? The walk back is over an hour. We’d have saved so much time if we just waited for the next bus.
But I guess I got my exercise in.