Vignette of the Afternoon
I’ll readily admit it – I do not want to work. Instead of posting in response to mayasbiotch and maya’s posts regarding the Art Fairs, I called mayasbiotch and maya for the singular purpose of saying the word "geek" into the phone. How crazy is that, interrupting a packing process to be an annoying girlfriend? Oh, such a procrastinator am I.
But seriously, I don’t want to work. I made decent progress into my event up until lunch; at that point, I ditched work to make french toast. After taking my lunch hour, I failed to make any further dents into my work. I’ve dawdled, reading about the SCOTUS nominee Roberts and interviews with JK Rowling concerning the death of a Harry Potter character. I’ve warily looked at business suits – my brother and sister are urging me to get one of high quality because, as they say, "[I'll] need one sooner or later." I’ve also written out a lengthy theory on the Potter books to my friend L, who had e-mailed me this morning with a theory of her own. I’ve taken pictures of the tee I’m wearing today. I dragged myself to the mailbox to pick up the mail even though it’s tremendously humid today. All in all, I’m avoiding responsibility, but I must say that Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, looks like an absolutely delightful city to visit.
You can hardly blame me, though – I’ve put in an extra four hours already this week in order to be ahead of the project game, and I comfortably am. If I take the next say, hour and a half to prep for dinner, no one’s going to the wiser, right?
Right.
I’m extraordinarily hungry. A case overeating or my body still reacting to the 6.5 miles I ran this morning? Good question.
Hmm, anyone know of any good hotels in San Francisco near Union Square? I’ll be needing one that’s moderately priced for my half-marathon weekend in October. I need to house two people since the little sister will be accompanying me.
My sister just came home and said:
"God, I hate the Art Fair. It smells so bad. It smells like grease and fish sandwiches and fries . . . ugh. It smells really bad. It’s like, ‘Get out people.’ And some people are taking refuge in Angell Hall. Get out, get out!" Didn’t I tell you?
Okay, I need to stop slacking.
