Due to the national day of mourning, the university offices have closed. But the library remains open, see, because this was a last-minute closing. I am cranky about this, because I’m the only person who has to stay.
I should be lucky to have a job right now. Still, cranky. And slacking off.
Speaking of slacking off, 99 Rooms is, in my opinion, the coolest website ever. Fair warning: it is not a game.
Speaking of rooms, my room is beginning to look more like a room and less like a storage space. I did ten loads of laundry last night. After I selected some clothes to give to Goodwill, Inkbot and I had an impromptu clothing swap. That was pretty fun, and I scored the sweater I am wearing today, which is a stripey chenille number with huge sleeves. I love huge sleeves.
Speaking of fountain pens, we went to Flax yesterday, too. I poked around at the fountain pens, but nothing struck my fancy. The last time I was there, I bought a purple sparkly Récife fountain pen, which is my new favorite, even though it does not write as well in my Moleskine notebook as my stately Monteverde Olympia does. I think it’s a combination of the nib (steel, as opposed to the Monteverde’s iridium) and the ink (J. Herbin, Lie de Thé, which is too watery and also smells like ass). My precious Waterman Caréne still writes beautifully, but the 18k gold nib leaks like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It practically sobs great puddles of ink, staining my hands, clothing, and anything else near it.
Speaking of the Sci Fi Channel, “5ive Days to Midnight” was utterly disappointing. And what’s the deal with spelling it “5ive”? I suppose we have the movie “Se7en” to thank for that.
Speaking of small rodents native to Barbados, there is a guy who resembles Jake Gyllenhaal on my morning and evening ferries every day. He usually wears white pants and a blue backpack and he scowls at the water a lot. I always make up stories about familiar strangers; I remember making up a bunch of stories about Jared, whom I eventually met. Jared emailed me today. That was pretty weird.
Speaking of colanders, dogs may understand human language. Just in time, too. I’ve run out of things to say.