I voice texted myself a writing idea while I was driving yesterday, and when the text sound came through, I got all excited
“Ooh, who’s texting me?”
Oh, it’s me.
I texted myself a Thanksgiving recipe from Instagram, and when the text sound came through, I got all excited.
“Ooh, who’s texting me?”
Oh, it’s me.
I screenshotted myself a picture of a label on a dress I liked in a store, so as to look it up when I got home. When the text sound came through, I got all excited.
“Ooh, who’s texting me?”
Oh, it’s me.
I fall for this Every. Single. Time. My stupidity is consistent.
I went into the lounge at school on Tuesday to use the ladies’ room, and I put my messenger bag in the sink while I freshened up. The motion-sensored faucet turned on and soaked everything in my bag, including a pile of student papers.
Shit!
Angrily, I grabbed my bag out, and tried my best to dry the stack of essays and my lunch. Dabbing at my bag, I gathered myself and took a deep breath, getting ready to apply lipstick and brush my hair. I placed my messenger bag into the sink to look for my lipstick and my brush, and the automatic faucet turned on and soaked everything in the bag, including a pile of student papers. Again.
Shit!
This is my favorite time of year, so I like to sit outside on campus between classes and enjoy the brisk weather and the antics of the students. Two weeks ago, as I sat at a table in the middle of the quad, eating my yogurt and listening to music, I was attacked by bees who were determined to share my Stonybrook peach yogurt. Even when I finished the yogurt and moved the container and the bag to the trash can, they continued to plague me. The smell, I suppose, clung to me.
Last week, I sat at a table in the middle of the quad eating a raspberry scone. I was attacked by bees who were determined to share my scone. Even when I finished the scone and moved the bag to the trash can, they continued to plague me. The smell, I suppose, clung to me.
On Tuesday, I sat at a table in the middle of the quad drinking a protein shake, and I was attacked by bees who were determined to share my shake. Even when I finished the shake and moved the bag to the trash can, they continued to plague me. The smell, I suppose, clung to me.
This post had no point. Just a little bit of me being me.
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