10.16.2001 - 8:33 p.m.

This is my second today, for those who care.

I was working in the registrar's office this morning, entering midterm grades. I started with these big stacks of class rosters from all the professors. I like the ones with coffee stains on them. I had to translate all the little comments ("failing," "too many absences," "fine," "who is this person?") into neat little two-letter codes so that everyone with issues can get form letters in time to save their asses from themselves. Or something. It's actually pretty sad, because every so often I'll know one of the names, or I'll realize that I've entered three D's and an F for the same person, and they'll probably have to leave soon. Explain it to their parents. That sort of thing.

It's getting stormy now. I walked out into the atrium for a drink a few minutes ago, and it was all dark and windy and wild. Somebody had propped the doors at both ends open, so the floor was covered in fallen leaves, and the tame tropical plants were waving. (no small feat, that. I used to think they were ornamental plastic tropical plants, but I saw someone watering them one morning last week.) Anyway, the overall effect was very pre-hurricane in Belize. Not bad for Maryland.

So today's goal was to find a bike pump, since Cichlid and I have one car to get us to two places at four different times tomorrow. Went through several friends who didn't have a pump, had lost their pump, or wished they had a pump before I finally found someone who swears she has one. She's got choir all night but I know where her key is so I can raid her townhouse. I'd actually kind of like to bike to work; certainly I need to do something to get my ass in gear. Plus I'm tired of begging cars and rides. I hate needing help. I never understand how to act when I get it.

On the up side, I'm wearing my favorite pair of pants. For some reason, in this pair only, I can squeeze my legs together and it's, um, nice.

Speaking of sexual frustration, I had an interesting thought today: it finally occurred to me that I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm being honest, I am not being overly desperate or unrealistic or clingy. I'll moon after a guy, sure, but only in private and I know exactly where the fiction/reality line is. He's (I mean, they're) wigging out because of their own personal issues.

Anyway. Found out that one of the faculty members here is trying to get rid of a kitten they found in their garage. Cichlid and I decided no pets, due to pet rent and her fiance's allergies, but I'm so tempted. It needs a home, right? Who am I to rob it of a home just for monetary reasons, or even because of other people's sinus cavities?

I won't do anything about it though until I talk to her. Hopefully she'll either talk me out of wanting it, or it'll be in some better place before we decide we can take it. I don't know if our place is even big enough to keep a cat happy. We aren't home much during the week, and the kinds of things we occasionnaly leave in the sink would probably poison it.

I miss having a cat, though.

I've rambled. Excuse me while I go squeeze the last half hour of work out of my brain.

-stonebridge

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