I think it’s time to just accept it. My life has become an mundane, dull, flat, ho hum, hum drum, Amish existence (with the exception of the phone). I have been cooped up in my room all day slaving away on never-ending work. But even I’m beginning to realize this is getting rather repetitive so I won’t bore you with all my schoolwork updates.
That leaves me with the most momentous event of the day: my hot plate. How bleak my life has become. My hot plate seemed to think my life needs excitement. I was in the mood for soup today, which implies cooking – a very rare occurrence. I was all gung-ho for soup and I had everything ready (a.k.a. can of soup and can opener). I pulled out my hot plate and cranked it on. Normally it only takes about two minutes for my soup to be hot and bubbly, but today what should I get when I crank up the knob? An endless, high-pitched beeping sound!
I employed the only technology-fixing techniques I know – smacking it in the hopes of jolting some common sense back into the machine (hey, it has proved very effective on laptops, radios, TVs and flashlights in the past). But that just seemed to make the hot plate angry. It promptly shut off – a great big “No soup for you!” Thanks a lot, hot plate. I thought we were on the same team.
Luckily Kitty let me borrow hers (I guess it’s a good thing we have two of those lying around after all), and I did get my soup. I also spent an inordinate amount of time making grotesque faces at my rebellious hot plate. Machinery strikes will not be tolerated! I’ll try again when I’m in a more forgiving mood.
Sadly, that is the possibly the most interesting part of my day. The rest was the same old same old. I called dozens of people and left so many messages that I’m starting to see why the automated telephone lady (we all know her, the one who says, “You. Have. No. New. Messages. Ha. Ha. You. Poor. Lonely. Hermit. Ha. Ha.”) sounds so robotic. You’d sound like that too if you had to say “For English, press one. Please hold. The number you have dialed is not in service.” It’s a hard knock life indeed.
On the bright side, there’s only 58 more days until I can go home for Christmas!
Wow, my life is bleak.