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It began with me sleeping too long, waking up at 10 am, thus having no time to break my fast or take a shower; all I could do was clean up the cat litter, and then hurry to university. Miraculously, I did manage to arrive there by 11:10, five minutes before the start of the lecture. I found about 5 sorry people in the seminar room, who didn't know what was up, so I went to the English secretary, who told me that the professor was ill and the lecture cancelled.
Why, great.
Later on, back at my parents', I finally changed my tires (since it's officially spring even by the reliable heathen calendar), which motivated my parents' ever-wise neighbour to come over and want to help. He talked and kept me from working for 15 minutes (and I take eternities to change tires, anyway), giving a lot of advice of which I'd wager at least half was absolutely wrong. I finally got rid of him and worked on, when my dad came out to ask whether I knew about this and that, or that and this. YES I KNOW ERUDAMMIT! I mean, he can do it whenever he wants, but if I have to do it on my own, than just let me work, ok? But once they see a girl working on her car, every damn man seems to feel compelled to give good advice.
Well, no, my brother didn't. My brother was busy perusing his ROTK DVD.
I still haven't got all the soot off my fingers, because there's no way except maybe sand-paper, and then I'd have trouble getting the blood of my fingers, and would feel like the discworld Macbeth.
And my bank account tells me that I don't have enough money for this month's rent. Fuck.
Gah. Maybe it's childish, but I'm highly annoyed.
[The first thing my beloved asked when he heard that I had changed my tires was, tada! whether I had done it correctly.]
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( Warum einen guten Tag, wenn man auch einen schlechten haben kann. )
- - -
Why, great.
Later on, back at my parents', I finally changed my tires (since it's officially spring even by the reliable heathen calendar), which motivated my parents' ever-wise neighbour to come over and want to help. He talked and kept me from working for 15 minutes (and I take eternities to change tires, anyway), giving a lot of advice of which I'd wager at least half was absolutely wrong. I finally got rid of him and worked on, when my dad came out to ask whether I knew about this and that, or that and this. YES I KNOW ERUDAMMIT! I mean, he can do it whenever he wants, but if I have to do it on my own, than just let me work, ok? But once they see a girl working on her car, every damn man seems to feel compelled to give good advice.
Well, no, my brother didn't. My brother was busy perusing his ROTK DVD.
I still haven't got all the soot off my fingers, because there's no way except maybe sand-paper, and then I'd have trouble getting the blood of my fingers, and would feel like the discworld Macbeth.
And my bank account tells me that I don't have enough money for this month's rent. Fuck.
Gah. Maybe it's childish, but I'm highly annoyed.
[The first thing my beloved asked when he heard that I had changed my tires was, tada! whether I had done it correctly.]
- - -
( Warum einen guten Tag, wenn man auch einen schlechten haben kann. )
- - -
