Chandri MacLeod (chandri) wrote,
Chandri MacLeod

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This morning, I rose very early to a) drive Mum to work, b) drive littlestsis to school, and c) roust Dad out of bed so we could go and buy my books, because my loans haven't hit yet and I needed my books. Anyway. I arrived home to my apartment, shut the door, looked around, and decided the place was an unholy mess, so I set about tidying a bit. When I went to put my laundry away, however, I found that the dowelling (the pole-ey thing that holds up clothes) had committed suicide in my absence. The little plastic socket-thingy on one end had given way, apparently in such passion that it tore a hole in the space-time continuum and vanished into a parallel dimension. Or so I assume, because once I had fished out, folded, and neatly re-stacked everything that was now in a heap on the floor of my closet, the sockety thing was nowhere to be found.

Now, okay, I admit it: briefly, I was at a loss. Several scenarios raced through my head, most of them involving me going mad from the many stacks of clothes/luggage/costumes littering my apartment with nowhere to go. But presently I got ahold of myself. Get ahold of yourself! I said. You are a Girl. You are not a Stupid Girl. You will therefore Get Up Off Your Ass and Go Down to the Zellers, where you will buy a replacement sockety thing.

So. There I am at Zellers, having easily (more or less) located the sockety thing (largely due to having had the presence of mind to - wait for it - actually write down the measurments!), I happened to pass the big scary disorganized section where they're selling patio furniture and the like. Now, some background: today is my mum's birthday. Littlestsis and I were going to buy her pretty Celtic jewelry, but the other option on the table was a nice lounge chair to go on the patio-gazebo-tent-thing she's planning to build. I spied a squishy green-with-leafy-patterns lounge chair amid the disaster, so I phoned my littlestsis, we had a discussion, which ended in my buying the chair.

On my way down to the checkout counter I discovered the possibly fatal flaw in my master plan: the chair, folded and wrapped in plastic, is about three feet to a side. My armspan is about (I just measured) four and a half feet. This presented a problem in that there wasn't really any comfortable (and also normal) way to carry the chair for any extended distance. It isn't actually very heavy, but heavy enough that one does not want to carry it with bent elbows.

Anyway, I got about halfway down the Zellers block before my MP3 player had a minor seizure, requiring me to stop, set down the chair, and fix it. Then I looked at it, looked at my puny short arms, and realized the solution, the only way I would be able to carry it home: so I put the big squishy lounge chair on my head, and carried it home, ON MY HEAD, where it was easy to balance, and people whistled at me, and at least two mothers with small children ushered them out of my path. It was fun. And an adventure. Gods, I'm such a student. ;)

Okay. Now to tackle to closet. And kill the sockety things.

EDIT: Once more: Hitchikers' comes out tomorrow. Who's coming? Last call! *waves arms*

DON'T PANIC EDIT: Tomorrow, 5pm, the benchy-courtyard-place outside the Metrotown Skytrain. We are go. *bounces up and down*

GET A FUCKING JOB EDIT: Note to self: stick resumes in bag RIGHT NOW, so you don't forget to drop one at Chapters tomorrow.

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