16 February 2010
I got lost in Minneapolis again today. I had to drop my son off at his Aunt’s house this morning. She watched him while Jennifer and I were at school and work, respectively. The ride there went smoothly, even though part of the directions called for me to “make a left on Cedar Avenue” and then “make a right on Cedar Avenue.”
The trip there to pick him up this afternoon was a different story. I’m not sure why, but MapQuest had me get off the freeway ~2 miles north of my destination, which, in Minneapolis makes no sense. I had to drive through downtown, then curve around the Metrodome, then, according to the directions, take the 35W exit and then – without getting onto 35E – take the 11th street exit. Nevermind the nonsense of that, I couldn’t find either exit despite the fact that I was driving ~10mph and was at the exact spot where the exit(s) should’ve been.
I ended up following University Avenue into St. Paul, then doubling back on I-94 (through horrid traffic) thereby reenacting the same route I had taken this morning.
When I got to my sister-in-law’s house, there was no place to park. I drove in a 3-block area looking for a spot…but there was nothing. Anywhere that looked like a spot was, instead, a dumping ground for snow. I even tried to fit into one spot, but was unsuccessful (though it did get me honked at!). I finally just called my sister-in-law and told her to bring my son out into the middle of the street where I would be waiting, blocking traffic.
Minneapolis. I hate that city.
17 February 2010
I stopped at my college’s writing center this evening before class. Thanks to car trouble and traffic, I was ten minutes late for my appointment. When I arrived, before I could even tell the student at the front counter my name, he said: “Just for future reference, if you’re more than 5 minutes late, we cancel your appointment.”
I looked at the clock and saw I was 8 minutes late, and I explined to him that it wasn’t due to negligence on my part. He repeated his prior statement.
“Well, did someone else take my place?” I asked, figuring another student must’ve walked in and was being assisted in my stead.
“No,” he said, “I was just letting you know…”
I cut him off. “Oh, well can I still have my meeting?”
He said I could. I don’t know what his problem was.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. I knew more about the style and documentation questions I had than did the student who was helping me. I mean, she was friendly, and it was nice of her to fit me in when I was a whopping 3 minutes past the deadline, but she couldn’t help me very much.
Two hours later, I turned in a draft of my first college paper in years. I’m expecting a C.
18 February 2010
Last night, recounting car troubles, bad weather, three weeks of sickness (it still hurts so bad to swallow that the pain wakes me up at night), a crashed computer, looming lay-offs at my job, too much schoolwork, and other assorted inconveniences, I said to my wife: “This has been the most miserable month we’ve had in a long time.”
She didn’t agree, but only because she claims she doesn’t rank the months of her life in discreet, tidy packages like I do. Man, sometimes I wonder what her deal is.
Anyway, in the middle of the night, Owen came into our room to sleep in our bed. This isn’t a big deal. He does it often. But tonight, about ten minutes after crawling into bed with us, he puked. A lot. And it was all egg yolk, becuase that was the last thing he ate before bed. So, since eggs already smell like vomit, things smelled pretty bad. I picked him up off the bed, and he puked again. Meanwhile, the bucket we had set next to his bed (where the vomit was supopsed to go) was still just sitting there, doing nothing.
So we had about a half hour of giving Owen a 2:00am bath, rinsing off sheets, pillowcases, pajamas and mattresses, and then taking the clothes down to the wash. And, of course, we didn’t have enough quarters to then run the dryer.
After putting mew sheets on the bad, and getting Owen back to sleep in his room again (with orders to NOT come into our bed), I set up my bed on the love seat. Jennifer’s coughing keeps waking me up, so for the past six nights I’ve either slept on the floor in Owen’s room or on the sofa (which is about 5 feet long). I began to set my alarm for this morning and Jennifer came in the living room for some reason. “Can February get any worse?” she asked.