I know that it is true that no matter how many times I check the Netflix site, it won’t tell me if the movies are going to be in my mail box tonight. But I will keep going back to my account and checking to see what is going on.

Okay… I do know… but really, it doesn’t matter. The best thing in the world happened yesterday: My boss called off the weekly meeting. This is what yesterday was like for me:

9:00 am: Sit down at my desk and open my paper. That is right folks, I didn’t check my email, read any blogs, or surf ANY of the internet.
9:15 am: Tried finding references for my introduction.
9:30 - 11:42 am: Wrote the best three paragraphs of my LIFE. WITH. REFERENCES.
11:43 am: Frantically tried to find Porter so that we could go to lunch.
12:00 - 1 pm: Sat at lunch with Porter and my sister, thinking how I only wrote THREE FUCKING PARAGRAPHS to my 2000000 page introduction (yeah - it is more like 7 pages) and that my meeting with my boss was at 2:30!
1 - 2:00 pm: Frantically cut and paste things around in the introduction, maybe made a few new sentences.
2:01 pm: Checked my email for the first time today. Saw an email from the boss saying that this week’s meetings were CANCELLED!
2:02 - 4:45 pm: Checked rest of email, read blogs, and surfed the internet until I decided I was going to go to the gym, which made me realize that I didn’t have my ID to get into the gym, which then resulted in me going to the DofV (local coffeeshop) to do a little crochetting then dropping off goods to the Salvo because I moved and have been carrying around this crap in my car for about 4 months now and it is about damn time that I get it out of my trunk…
4:45 - 6:30 pm: Play racquetball with my sister, who insists that I will make a good player even if I did hit her TWICE with the ball while returning her serves.

Lessons learned yesterday:

1. Dude, check your fucking email first thing in the morning, or you might try and bust out of your slacker-like natural state and try to actually get work done for a meeting that has been canceled! (just kidding)
2. Racquetball is hard.
3. MS stands for Machine Shop, which is where Porter lives these days.
4. Don’t forget your ID card, or it will just lead to more slacking.

Let me preempt the following comments with this little tidbit of information - on a scale of one to granola, I rank somewhere in the upper echelon of granola. What I mean is, though about 5% of my wardrobe is trendy, I wear clogs or chacos (depending on the weather) practically every day. I have 5 pairs of pants, some with patches, because I like them and don’t want to replace them. I compost, recycle, and give scraps to the chickens. I am a hippy, for all general purposes, and I am OKAY with that. But this is what I don’t get (and why I now wished I had a camera phone so I can share the abundant unexplained fashion atrocities of a college campus):

WHAT IS THE DEAL WITH RUBBER BOOTS? First of all, it isn’t raining today… second of all, even if it was, they don’t need to be above the knee…. thirdly, YOUR SWEAT PANTS ARE TUCKED INTO THEM. Who are you? What fashion statement are you trying to make? I have seen 15 pair of those UGG or knock-off boots today as well. I live in northern CA folks. It is a CHILLY 66 degrees today. Break out the winter boots! Tuck our pants deep down into them so that no snow gets in… I’m sorry, not snow… GRASS CLIPPINGS…

Somebody please explain this fashion trend to me!?! The rubber boots?

A 27-year old afraid of getting yelled at by her boss. She doesn’t own a house, but wants nothing more than a place to hang her coat that belongs to her. She isn’t married, but that is the thing she wants second most. And instead of being able to focus on writing a paper, she is obsessed with trying to figure out a craft that she can sell in order to save money for a house.