It’s evening and my stomach is still processing my breakfast. It’s not that I’ve been eating badly, though breakfast was coffee and a hot cross bun. It’s that my days have been busy. I have been lethargically (but thoroughly) completing homework and assignments. There have been set-backs to this. (don’t stop reading; i know it’s a terrible hook)
Like the long family conference because we weren’t pulling our weight and sharing the load. Then there was the tv, fish and chips and cider night because we realised we all love one another but had just felt pressured and busy. Then there was leaving the house keys (and my car keys, sorry) in the house when going on an outting at nannying and then the flat tire on the way home from uni.
I suppose I can be lucky in hurt ways, like Pollyanna. Monday’s sour night meant Tuesday’s cider night. Locking the keys in meant pink and green smile biscuits and adventures in taxis. My friend who I was taking home, noticed the car tyre and works at the carpark where it sat. His friend changed the tyre for us on the spot. My friend drove home and I could relax.
After walking around for hours, really, at uni today trying to print all five components of my assignment, which were on a USB that I’d left at home (lucky I took my laptop) I bumped into my sister and her friends. I’d just texted her but considering the uni phone and internet reception is so bad it makes me want to swing my vote and forever support NBN, she hadn’t received it.
I verbalised the text message; asking what the correct percentage for ‘originality’ was on turnitin, and where I could put more money on my printing card which was left with .21 cents. I showed the group my cover sheet that after several times had only managed to print as a5 on the a4 sheet. I asked whether they though I could use the sheet and pass considering IF YOU DO NOT ATTACH A MARKING RUBRIC, YOUR ASSESSMENT WILL NOT BE MARKED (caps lock not added, not even for effect.) They suggested “no” and told me where I could add money to my card.
I drove home at peak hour and put my car in at the mechanic, then walked home. I sat down and checked all forms of social media and moved money around among my accounts to make me feel richer. After eating two paddlepop ‘scribbles’ and cleaning my room, the world became quiet again.
It was then that I heard my stomach. Soon enough it was override-d by the XX’s coming from the speakers in my brother’s room. I read a couple of pages of Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz;
“There’s not a lot of work in the Christian Market if you won’t write self-righteous conservative propaganda. I write new realism essays. I am not a commodity.”
And then I attempt a new realism essay.
I don’t know if I like it.
I might now go and fall asleep to the sound of the BBC while my brother types on his typewriter to the beat of his music, or so it sounds to me.