April showers



It's been storming here and there for the past five days. The temperature's been dropping this afternoon and into the evening. I have been invited over for dinner, and just in time, too, for the phone call came as I was preparing to go wander the streets listlessly and try to stir up a little motivation for school work. I've stayed up late the past few nights; not studying, as all good school girls should, but writing all sorts of grandiose (and occasionally depraved) things into a notebook (or at the very least scribbling onto an extra-sticky post-it note). I'd been doing alright on such little sleep, but this morning I seemd to hit a wall, and couldn't get out of bed.



Thankfully the phone rang before the morning was all spent, with word that CV had taken to her bed with a horrible, nasty stomach virus, and would I be so kind as to pick up and drop off some papers for her, and perhaps procure a Gatoraid? (Considering the hordes of Gator fans we ran across Monday evening while attempting to go to our favorite bar for dinner and air hockey, I had to snicker a bit at the last request, but I am a good friend in need and quickly agreed to all requests.)



One of the papers I had to drop off was for an English class, and as I walked through the door that led into the Hall of Tenured English Faculty I was disgusted to find the stench of patchouli wafting heavily around me. The patchouli stench was an unsubtle reminder of why I declined to continue on the English major path when I returned to university after my hiatus. I can assure you that respectable journalists never, and public relations professionals absolutely never, reak of patchouli.



And if I have offended anyone with my patchouli-bashing, well, you knew I was difficult from the start.

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