Odd Happenings

Well, my life has been a full mix of research and fun (and now class), with a few misadventurous bumps along the way.

Raccoon Barricade

I was walking back to my apartment around midnight after watching a movie with some friends (who live in the same apartment complex--I'm not that foolhardy), when I noticed a raccoon on the steps leading up to my apartment. Being the wise (aka cautious, fearful, timid, etc) person that I am, I backed off, having no desire to enter into a game of chicken with a raccoon, whose only option would be taking a flying leap at my face. So I stood by my car and did what any girl in my situation would have done--call a friend to talk about it.
So I got on the phone with Liz, who had just left, and explained my predicament. At which point, I realized that there were TWO raccoons peering through the slats at the top of the steps. Wow--no way I was getting past their stairblock! I tried things like jingling my keys, etc, but I didn't want to make too much noise and wake up the whole building. So I get the idea of turning on my car and hoping that the high beams would encourage the raccoons to abandon their fortifications. I do--and there is some movement, but they don't look ready to leave. What else could I possible do? Thankfully this remained a purely superfluous question, for a raccoon loped down the steps and around the corner of the building (into the woods that conveniently wrap right up to the apartment)--quickly followed by another--followed by three more. It was a strategic retreat, but with something of a parade about it. I stared in shock as this was happening, thinking, “Wow, I’m glad I didn’t try to charge in!” and wishing I could have gotten a picture. Who says suburbia is tame? Maybe we should be worried about the advance forces of the newly-formed RRA (Raccoon Republican Army).

Respawning Spider

We’ve all heard the phrase “art mimics life” but who knew videogames and reality were so closely connected?
The first time I found this spider in my bathtub, I bravely but squeamishly smashed it with toilet paper, and was subsequently very grossed out by the leg left flopping around (a la Pirates of the Caribbean’s dead hand). A few days later I find an identical spider right outside the tub, which I dispose of. This happens again after another few days. Now, I may not be a scientific genius, but I do know that lots of spiders hatch in the same place, etc. But that’s not the point. The point is, like World of Warcraft, you have a respawning monster that is killed and then appears in the same spot after a certain amount of time. It’s the same thing with this insidious arachnid.
Freaky, huh? Now if only I got bonus points for killing spiders.

A Conspiracy of Chairs

My summer class started this week, in what used to be GCB (General Classroom Building) but which now has a long, confusing name after a professor, which I refuse to use on principle. (I’ve called it GCB for three years now—they can’t go changing the foundation of my education this late in the game.) Anyhow, there are four floors, and each flight of stairs is broken up into two, with a landing between (as you change direction). In each landing (on both ends of the building) is a single plastic/metal chair—usually orange, green or brown—with a taped (and typed) sign that says “do not remove from stairwell.” Why? What could possibly be the use for such chairs? They are in between floors, so they can’t possibly be used to prop the doors open. Are they for people to rest on who get winded climbing flights of stairs, in a gesture towards complete non-discrimination? Do they have secret building-safety powers? Can they put out fires? What is the answer to this mystery?
One chair ended up right outside our classroom, probably by a student who took the signs lightly. The chair still sits there in ominous silence—but who knows if we’ll ever see that student again?

Maybe the chairs are in league with the raccoons.

3rd Annual End of the (School)Year Awards

(Aka "A Quick Catchup of the Last Few Months")

Most Misadventurous Hour: Believe it or not, there were some close runners-up, but this story pretty much takes the cake (or cookies, as it were).
Back in February, I woke up at around five a.m., and, debating on whether or not to get out of bed to go to the bathroom, I saw that the hall light was on, and thought I heard something. So I got up, and opened the door to find my roommate quietly but miserably crying. She was curled up on the bed in lots and lots of (physical) pain, so I sat with her, trying to be comforting. It was snowing outside, and Lukas was away for the weekend with the car. She's in pain relatively regularly, and it wasn't something that usually needs the doctor, but it was especially bad that night, so we were debating whether or not to take her to the emergency room. Well, I was sitting there on the edge of her bed, trying so earnestly to think her into feeling better, or sort of psychicly funnel some of her pain away, when I started feeling bad. Okay, I told myself, you're just being over-dramatic because you can't stand having the attention focused on someone else. But I kept felling a little weird. "Hang on" I told her. "I'm just going to go to the bathroom for a second. . ."
Well, the next thing she hears is a huge crash, and she drags herself into the bathroom (literally; she can’t even stand up straight) to find me unconscious on the bathroom floor, between the toilet and the tub. On my way down I must have grabbed the shower curtain, because it came down on top of me, and on its way down sheared the knob off the tub’s water supply completely off, and water is pouring out. (I should also mention that our shower doesn’t drain very well, and the shower curtain was blocking the drain, so that it was filing up). Poor, poor Sarah!
I came to after maybe 20-30 seconds, feeling really groggy, with Sarah hovering frantically over me. “I’m alright,” I kept repeating, which is always what I seem to say after passing out, and which is never really true. She helped me stumble back to my bed, and told me to lie down, as she rushed back to try to get the water to stop gushing out. She couldn’t even find the knob in the folds of shower curtain, and (understandably) started freaking out. “I’ll get it,” I mumble, starting up again. By God’s grace I didn’t pass out again, and I was able to somehow grab the knob and shove it back on. The water stopped, and we both collapsed in our tiny hallway, sobbing and laughing hysterically and desperately. We joked about calling the maintenance guy (with whom we already have a history of crazy repairs) and him finding us on the floor, in too much pain to get up, and him quipping something about needing an ambulance. So we prayed, and I grabbed a pack of frozen thin mints out of the fridge, which we went a long way towards finishing, and went back to bed.
The next afternoon Sarah was feeling marginally better, and Libby kindly took me to a weekend health clinic (student health care is closed on the weekend, which is always when I get sick), which had moved since the last time I went there, which turned into its own misadventure. As it turns out, I had a sinus infection (I seem to get that or bronchitis every semester). Later that week, our friendly neighborhood maintenance man came over to fix the shower, and he was shocked by what had happened to the knob, and even more so by the fact that we were able to get the water stopped again. Sarah told him the story, and he was really kind and concerned, but laughingly told her to tell me “to stay away from the bathroom” (see January’s entry).
So, people, if you have any stories to top that (I have no doubt that Kaelen can) send them my way! But that is certainly one of my most crazy moments, even with my general klutziness taken into account. (And why is it I always pass out in the most unglamorous situations? Why can’t a fold into a faint delicately like some Regency woman?)

Favorite New Book Series: The Honor Harrington Novels by David Weber

Best Parts of Having an Apartment: my own bedroom, space to have friends over, decorating, and getting to hang out with Sarah!

Worst Parts of Having an Apartment: construction, construction, construction, practical jokes about ball python in water supply, very short shower head, wildlife [ants, possums, raccoons, lizards, feral cats, etc.].

Favorite Class: Ancient World in Film with Barnes and Rautman: amazing, amazing amazing! (Plus fun getting to hang out with Marcus and Sam)

Most Stretching Experiences: Drawing class (really, it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to get through, but rewarding too), visit to the City Museum--I'm afraid of heights and apparently claustrophobic. Nuff said.

Under Construction

Right now I’m on spring break, so the only sounds in the background are the growls and thumps of video games, but for the last month or two most of my life has revolved around the sound of construction. Last year the apartment building next to mine burned down, and so I’ve been woken up every morning at 7:15 with the sound of nail guns outside my window. Now, for those of you responsible adults who are thinking “big deal,” let me remind you that I am a crazy college student, who, for various reasons (none involving partying) stays up rather late—“rather” being in comparison to those I know who stay up until 4 or 5 am. In any case, for the first two weeks of this torture, I walked around like a zombie, muttering dark curses on construction workers. Then, it started following me around. There is tons of construction on campus, and some of it is happening right outside one of my classes. It gets so loud that we can’t even hear whoever is speaking. In the meantime, the apartment complex apparently was forced by the state to put in more fire hydrants, a process that involved sectioning off most of out already limited parking, and digging a ridiculously deep trench right the in middle of our roadway. Most of it is now filled in with gravel, but on each end it is merely covered over with huge metal squares, with sound like thunder every time a car runs over them. We’re gotten used to it, but it always freaks visitors out (what was that?!!!).
One side effect of all of this is the dirt, which, you guessed it, turned to a greater amount of mud with every torrential rain we’ve had the last few weeks. At one point, I was running late to bring the car to Lukas, so I only slipped on my boots but didn’t bother to zip them up. Well, I make it down the steps, step into the muddy parking lot, and one of them flaps down into the mud. Just great, I think. As I bend down to zip it up, my new expensive purse slips into the mud. Fabulous. As I try to brush it off, Lukas calls, and I try to get my cell phone out of my pocket with my now-muddy hands.
Actually, I’ve been wondering how some people manage to make it to class still looking like something other than a drowned sewer rat. After twenty minutes in the pouring rain, my jeans were soaked up three-quarters of the way, rain had seeped into my boots (which were tucked into my jeans and came to my knees) and socks, and so much water collected on my backpack that it seeped all the way through to the bottom, ruining the bottom lines of my notes, and dripping down the back of my pants. And all this is with an umbrella, a raincoat, and a sweater! I’ve decided that I need to invest in one of those huge, ten-person umbrellas; forget the small individual sized ones, they just don’t cut it. I’ve felt superior in the past for using the small umbrellas that don’t take up the entire sidewalk, but forget that; desperate times call for desperate measures.
But back to my point. All this is, when put into perspective, merely irritating. But lately some tarps and window coverings on the new building haven’t been tied down well, and they make ghostly noises flapping, flapping (or perhaps “rapping, rapping”) at my windowpane. But these noises aren’t even regular, so I will be trying to fall asleep when a haunting whisper whips me back into awakeness. “’Tis the wind and nothing more,” or so I tell myself, but it is still dang distracting, especially when I’m reading a literary horror novel called House of Leaves.
As I left for break, my nostalgia made me feel like saying farewell even to those dastardly tarps, but I’m not sure how long that will last once I come back from break. Maybe the construction will be over. Or maybe I’ll find a raven at my window. Both probabilities are equally likely.

Crazy Day

Well, school starts tomorrow but I'm not sure I'm going to have enough energy to deal with it! Today definitely earns a nomination in my misadventure hall of fame.

Our car's alignment was all out of whack following our trip to SC, so my dad and Lukas dropped it off last night, so that we could get it this morning and head back to Mizzou. Well, this morning the place called, and said that our tires were old, filled with dry rot, and some other techno-lingo I didn't catch. (I guess I should mention that we got the alignment fixed two weeks before. How did our tires suddenly *noticeably* age seven years? I have no idea.) I had to go between holding, calling my dad at work, calling the place again, calling, my dad at work, price checking another place, etc. I should also mention that at this place all 3 guys working were named Jim, Joe, and John, and at first I kept forgetting just whom I was supposed to be speaking with. It turns out (of course) that another place had a by far better price, which was also going to be more of an ordeal.

Lukas had to do most of the run-around, because he was more packed than I was, so that was worse for him. But then he calls me on the way to pick up Julia, and goes “Umm, I think the speedometer’s messed up. It says I’m going fifty and I’m definitely not going more than thirty-five.” He planned on going back to the place, but then figured out that it had gotten switched to kilometers per hour instead of miles.

Well, we drove down (it’s sort of sleeting in Columbia), got slightly unpacked, and then I ran to Wal-Mart. The first cart I picked, of course, had in alignment worse than my car’s, and I was almost unable to wrestle it into moving straight ahead. So I got another cart, and proceeded with my shopping. All went more or less well until I got to the Pringles. Lukas had asked me to buy some for him, and I had to sort through all the weird packaging and labels. Then, in my new semi-healthy phase, and debated buying some fat-free Pringles for myself, and realized with a sense of unfairness that the low-fat versions were double the price of the regular ones! Maybe that’s because of higher production costs, but I doubt it.

I got back from Wal-Mart, put up the groceries, and was ready to rest, completely unaware of the doom descending on me. Never, ever try to flush the toilet and switch the toilet paper role at the same time. Our toilet paper holder is a really cheap metal one that is always falling apart, and the spring sometimes catapults the two metal halves halfway across the room. In this case it hurled one half down the still-flushing toilet and out of sight. I’m sure you can image my horror. OCD people do NOT like to think of putting their hands into toilet water (even clean), not that there was anything to pull out anyway. Oh no, oh no, oh no, I thought, and then added wryly, so much for the money I saved at Wal-Mart. So after calling my dad (and my roommate) in panic, I reached the apartment maintenance guy who said that actually it would probably be fine, since it was just half of the holder. I eyed the other half and the spring as if it was going to leap down the pipe just to irritate me. He had me try flushing it, which worked (!), but then we had to wait for it to fill up to try and flush a wad of paper. Of course it took a century, so we made small talk about the weather, I gave a brief run through of my crazy day, and decided that the adage “a watched pot never boils” also applies to toilet bowls refilling. So, as of 8:50 tonight, I hope all my misadventures of the day are over. But you never know. Maybe the holder’s spring will come attack me in my sleep.