I�ve been sick all week, a bizarre head cold that started Friday and morphed into the Worst Cold of All Time. I spent all of Saturday in bed until my mom dragged me out to see my brother�s show at Blake�s in Berkeley (we had been planning on it for a month), all of Sunday poking around my physics homework, and come Monday I crawled into work and decided at 10am that this simply would not do. I asked to go home after the new receptionist was done with lunch (I cover the phones while she�s out) but had to go to campus to work some more on some physics shit. I got home around 7pm and promptly crashed. Tuesday was similar: went home at 1pm, but I slept all day and was up for a few hours for American Idol and Scrubs and then passed out, only to wake up every few hours for some reason or another. The virus has seemingly moved on, leaving in its wake a roll�s worth of snotty toilet paper (I don�t buy Kleenex) and the sentiment that every day should end at 1pm.
Have I mentioned that I kind of got my promotion? I haven�t been told anything about a raise yet (I�m supposed to ask today � ah) but I�m loving my job so much now that I don�t have to talk to anyone. I�m redoing the three-year-old filing system that doesn�t make any sense and just hang out in the back conference room alphabetizing and TWoPing all day.
I was offered the chance to hair model last Thursday and I took it. For those of you out of the know, people training to be professional hair stylists use hair models to practice certain cuts. What matters is that it�s a free haircut for me, which I desperately needed since I blew my yearly hair budget on a $70 cut that was worth the money but nevertheless overpriced. I was told I would be getting a graduated bob � something shorter but basically the same style that I had � when two and a half hours later my hair reached no further than my earlobe. I officially have Short Hair again. I don�t mind it, aside from the fact that it makes me look approximately eight years younger. It was the most technically perfect haircut I�ve ever received, so yay for that. Also, sitting in a chair for upwards of three hours while craning your neck this way and that makes for a pretty gnarly series of knots in your back that Aaron has refused to work out thus far. Watta poop.
Two days until I find out about Berkeley. One day until my physics midterm. Mere hours until my English class. I love being this busy, in the sense that I�m a masochist. I�m not taking any classes this summer only because there aren�t any I can take and I�m thrilled at the prospect of catching up on all the books I optimistically thought I could read while taking an accelerated English course, a film course from a teacher who takes his chosen field of study way too seriously, and a science course when I am in no way science-minded. One-ish more month.
Tired. Ugh. When I was sick all I ate was yogurt and chicken soup and Aaron refuses to let me buy a scale so I don�t know if I lost any weight, but I�m semi-obsessing about it. Sometimes I go into Macy�s just to use their fancy-schmancy floor model scales to measure my worth in pounds.
P.S. An official apology to Maddie: I have no idea why I wrote that. I certainly didn�t mean any harm; it was a stream of consciousness sort of thing.