c and i finished friday's graphic assignment tuesday evening. sure, i stayed at school a wee bit late two evenings in a row, but c did most of the heavy lifting and all i had to do is polish up the sharp edges which is something i adore, so… that's done.
today, after days and days of perambulations, obfuscations and procrastinations, i tackled my essay. i'd been doing research for over a week, reading article after article*, jotting down the salient points in a 5-page file, along with the very best quotes and a general outline. a lot of work, my poultries, especially for a topic that fails to excite. today i began to write. i was one paragraph in when i decided to transfer the essay bits off the notes page into a new document so i could look at both at the same time. simple, non? non.
in the midst of this simple copy and paste, word freezes up and all comes to a standstill. there is a pregnant pause**and then i realise that nothing's budging, so i force quit word and then restart. guess what i find: i now have 2 files, one titled notes, the other titled essay, both with nothing but that first paragraph on them, and the notes are nowhere to be found.
i scoured the laptop, i scoured the interwebs, i tried every flavour of IT snake-oil known to nerd, and nothing. nothing. NOTHING!!! i'd rather have lost that one paragraph than a week's and 10 articles' worth of notes. i came pretty damn close to crying, let me tell you, the upside of which was realising that it's been a damn long while since i felt like crying, which i suppose is a sweet little nugget in a pile of bitter poo.
at any rate, after railing about this on facebook (wherein i had to explain to people repeatedly that I DID SAVE the damn document, after all, i'd been using it for a week so obviously it was saved and also, i'm not a complete idiot and YES, i have auto-save and YES, i know how to search for missing things which all makes it even worse, cause this thing is gone, baby, gone), i went on to write roughly half the essay, pulling the information randomly out of various orifices, hoping the elegance of my prose would cover the alarming lack of organisation. then i thought i'd celebrate, because, honey, i deserve it.
we all know that chez moi, nothing says celebration like a nice glass of vino, so with c's blessings (have two, he tells me, you deserve it (see? i told you i deserved it!)) i went to open a bottle languishing on a shelf.
i plunged in my corkscrew and half the cork came out. i went in again and another piece came out. i went in again, aiming for the least mangled portion of the cork. more chunks came out. again and again, i tried to open the damn bottle and kept getting small chunks of fine portuguese cork all over my damn counter. there came a point where i had had enough (and not nearly enough cork for further excavation) and decided to do it the old fashioned street-thug way - using a knife to push the rest of the cork in.
have you ever done that, my poultries? pushed a cork in? i've seen mister monkey do it, and it looked easy. hah. HAH, i tell you. it wasn't easy. what happened was this: the cork went in easily enough, displacing with its small but notable presence, according to the annoying laws of physics (the displacement of mass and all that), an equal amount of red wine, which went out and up and directly into my eye. that shit stings, did you know? i ran to the sink, washed my face and was ready to laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing…until i looked up and saw the walls. the walls covered with matte white wallpaper. in the kitchen. yes. you heard me. and yes, you can draw your own conclusions about the intellect or practicality of the person responsible for that particular decorating travesty. i think i might have been able to wash the wine off if i'd gone after it immediately, alas i was too busy bending over the sink muttering, it burns, it burns! as i splashed cold water in my eyes.
my shirt was also covered with attractive splashes of wine, as was the counter and the floor. obviously, those are no big deal. but come on, porous white wallpaper in the kitchen? what. the. fuck. and to really flesh out this story, let me tell you that the number of glasses of red wine that i spilled over the years at my roommate's other houses, usually all over very light carpeting, was so great that i was no longer allowed to drink red.
i think i may be done for the day.
the wine, by the way, is very good.
P.S. i just 'fessed up to my fabulous roommate (on account of it being kinda impossible to hide, unlike the one time i spilled grape juice on their white master bedroom carpet and hid it by moving all the furniture 2 inches to the right) and you know what he said? "if some is pink now, we're going to need more red wine." best roommate ever.
*real books are for fun. for research, it best be electronic or i ain't gonna read it.
**for all you pc users, this is not a typical daily occurrence with macs. it's very very VERY rare.