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1164. Finish projects before they are due. --from Life's Little Instruction Book, Volume III |
Saturday, February 13, 1999 What Happened Thursday (Part II) The problem with waiting too long before composing these entries is that the further I am from the events, the less I feel like writing about them. But I promised you the rest of Thursday, so here goes... Art class came and went. My classwork wasn't especially successful, but I took it as some comfort that I was aware of that myself, and that my professor's assessment of the better of the two pieces I worked on was the same as my own; not bad on the whole, but one particular white square on it just didn't work. I may not be able to come up with a good design, but at least my critical abilities work in this medium, too...
From there, I stopped by one of my former English professors. A few minutes into our conversation, another student stopped by. I'd met her at a poetry reading last semester, at which she was my favorite reader, and I was just delighted to see her again. Especially as I'm desperate for good poetry for my section of the college paper. I gave her the sales pitch, and she seems interested, and we'll probably be in touch again in the near future. So that much was really nice.
From there to the school paper. Umm, no, actually, from there to Payroll, which was closed. It's Wednesdays that they're open late. Oops. Anyway, from there to the school paper. By this time, I was feeling almost utterly exhausted. But the paper had to get done. I at least had the consolation of knowing that, owing to the holiday schedule, there was to be no paper the following week. So I walked in. There seemed to be less activity than I would have expected on a Thursday night. Then the Editor-in-Chief greeted me.
Editor-in-Chief:
Shmuel:
Editor-in-Chief:
Shmuel:
Editor-in-Chief:
Shmuel:
Editor-in-Chief:
Shmuel: (A broad grin stretches across his face, as he gratefully
slumps into a chair)
So I went home, collapsed into bed almost immediately, slept 'till midnight or so, then got up, puttered around the 'Net for a bit, wrote and posted my journal entry for Thursday, and went back to sleep. Then got up on Friday, went to the bank (which turned out to be open), went to the grocery, went to the library, went to the post office, went home, composed my Friday journal entry, uploaded it, put some chicken nuggets in the oven and some hot water in a Thermos, and generally got ready for the weekend. Spent Shabbos zipping through MAD About the Fifties, reading/skimming a not-very-interesting biography of Walt Disney, and getting most of the way through Allende's The House of the Spirits, with frequent breaks along the way to whimper out loud and silently curse the narrator. More on that (with appropriate warnings) once I finish the book, which will probably be after I upload this entry.
Fable postscript: It occurred to me yesterday that, in at least one of the versions I read as a child, the donkey's saddlebags were filled with salt, to be sold in the marketplace. When it fell off the bridge, the salt dissolved. This both settles the question of what the man and his son were doing out there, and explains why that whole bit with the bridge was necessary to the tale.
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