The bad thing about missing a day of class is that you feel like you've missed so much but when you go in the next day you realize it's only Tuesday and you're just as tired as you were the day before. I'm okay though, I turned in a big paper this morning and my design project will be in this evening and then the rest of my week is pretty much free to prepare for the various guests staying at my house. My uncle will actually be here on Thursday and then we have some friends in town for the next week.I always get stressed out over cleaning the house and trying to think of things to do, when people visit. Everything always turns out okay but I still worry about stupid things like the too-porous surface of my bathtub (I'm trying to clean it without making it worse) and the condition of the carpet.
I am feeling mostly uncreative today. I was writing a little during lunch but I couldn't come up with anything that sounded right. I can't come up with anything that sounds right now, I'm just playing with the sunglasses in my lap and looking at the clock. Here, I'll type in some of the crap I wrote this morning.
Emily's father died on a Monday. She found out during a casual perusal of the obituaries nearly a month later. Even in her grief, she took a little satisfaction in the fact that her theory had been correct. She felt a kinship to the newspaper after that, as her father had been a relatively famous man. Small clippings regarding his death began to line Emily's mirror. Her life was otherwise unaffected.
The morning was constant noise. Emily noticed a lack of solitary chairs and forced herself to sit next to a quiet-looking boy near the back of the room.
"You have to love lecture," the boy said when it was too late for Emily to get up and sit somewhere else. The boy had a pimple tucked into the shadow where his nose met his cheek, a swelling of read with a tiny, glistening tip of white. "I'm Marc," he said. "With a 'c.'"
Marc with a "c" pulled out a bag of Cheetos and offered her some. Emily refused, citing health reasons but recalling an episode of "Inside Treats" she had watched on cable wherein unflavored Cheetos were passed down a metallic line looking like bloated maggots.
"Nothing like lecture," said Marc.
Boring. I was going for a good line and I got too bored to get there. I honestly didn't intend that disgustingly phallic pimple though, that's kind of funny.
