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these things are sent to try us; ramblings of a material day
My car knows exactly when I don't want it to refuse to start. And then it refuses to start. Of course. So five minutes before I need to be at my tutor-kid's house is, you know, fucking ideal.
Rang and apologised, cancelled, no problem, sulked around parents' house for a while nursing jasmine tea and reading Phantom of the Opera (which, by the way, makes OH SO MUCH MORE SENSE than the musical does, dear lord, despite the odour of cheap romantic melodrama and the endless, ENDLESS exclamation marks), did some more cleaning in lack of anything else to do, awaited father with car-fix-y skills.
This is the THIRD WEEK IN A ROW I've had to cancel, for one reason or another.
Fahye's dad: I think God is trying to tell you something. This kid could be the next Hitler! Maybe you're not meant to teach him anything! Maybe he's THE DEVIL!
Fahye: ...I want my twenty-five dollaaaaaaars, bitchwhinemoan
I will hasten to add that my father is not actually religious, nor insane. Just...occasionally eccentric.
In a brilliant pre-emptive fit of retail therapy, earlier in the afternoon I wandered into the Music Shop intending to buy Josh Groban's Closer album ($15) and the Amici album ($15). What do I come out with? Josh Groban, the Rocky Horror soundtrack ($15), Tori Amos' from the choirgirl hotel album ($10) and the Barenaked Ladies 1991-2001 best of ($10 <---SO MUCH HAPPY SO CHEAP BEST BLOODY CD EVER BOUGHT OH YES).
Had to leave Amici, also the 3-disc musicals collection ($20), also Singing in the Rain ($15), also the REM album I've wanted for ages ($10) because fifty bucks is enough to blow on music at one time, no matter how good the sale tables are. Wah.
Tomorrow I am going to mark a bazillion calculus papers, pick up the first Dark Tower book from the library (FINALLY it comes in. I may yet actually have a clue as to what all the fuss is about! Hurrah!) and try and keep myself a long, long way away from the huge catalogue sale that JB is having. Have bought enough music. Yes. Do not need to ransack their musicals section. No.
...it's right next to the library oh god I'm doomed.
Rang and apologised, cancelled, no problem, sulked around parents' house for a while nursing jasmine tea and reading Phantom of the Opera (which, by the way, makes OH SO MUCH MORE SENSE than the musical does, dear lord, despite the odour of cheap romantic melodrama and the endless, ENDLESS exclamation marks), did some more cleaning in lack of anything else to do, awaited father with car-fix-y skills.
This is the THIRD WEEK IN A ROW I've had to cancel, for one reason or another.
Fahye's dad: I think God is trying to tell you something. This kid could be the next Hitler! Maybe you're not meant to teach him anything! Maybe he's THE DEVIL!
Fahye: ...I want my twenty-five dollaaaaaaars, bitchwhinemoan
I will hasten to add that my father is not actually religious, nor insane. Just...occasionally eccentric.
In a brilliant pre-emptive fit of retail therapy, earlier in the afternoon I wandered into the Music Shop intending to buy Josh Groban's Closer album ($15) and the Amici album ($15). What do I come out with? Josh Groban, the Rocky Horror soundtrack ($15), Tori Amos' from the choirgirl hotel album ($10) and the Barenaked Ladies 1991-2001 best of ($10 <---SO MUCH HAPPY SO CHEAP BEST BLOODY CD EVER BOUGHT OH YES).
Had to leave Amici, also the 3-disc musicals collection ($20), also Singing in the Rain ($15), also the REM album I've wanted for ages ($10) because fifty bucks is enough to blow on music at one time, no matter how good the sale tables are. Wah.
Tomorrow I am going to mark a bazillion calculus papers, pick up the first Dark Tower book from the library (FINALLY it comes in. I may yet actually have a clue as to what all the fuss is about! Hurrah!) and try and keep myself a long, long way away from the huge catalogue sale that JB is having. Have bought enough music. Yes. Do not need to ransack their musicals section. No.
...it's right next to the library oh god I'm doomed.