Day One, a Gift Horse From God

My car is clean. For a while there, my car was getting dusty. Not so much dirty, as dirt implies something really firmly attached to the car, but dusty, as in accumulated soil samples from around the city. It is now entirely spotless, except as far as water spots can count toward that. Yes, people, it rained today. There's a story in that, and I'll tell you, when the time is right. Several bad things - or rather, several not good things - happened today, and that is but one of the many.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

Today, I woke up and got ready for school. I packed my lunch - and dinner - and set all my things out that I wanted to take to my office. I observed a class at eleven, so I figured I needed to leave the apartment at about ten, to give myself leeway for any parking mishaps. But I didn't actually expect there to be many. And for me, there weren't many. Just a few. As in "just a few parking spaces on campus." But just before hope gave way, it happened.

I saw a set of twins, glowing whitely from the back of a car, and lo! The car moved in a backwards direction, and a spot was free. Only for the few minutes it took that vehicle to get out of my way, however. After that, it was mine. Never mind that it was on the very farthest side of the parking lot. It was mine. Triumph one, after getting behind Farmer Joe who must have been afraid his produce would fly out if he went any faster than twenty-five miles under the speed limit. But no matter. I arrived, and I found parking.

The not good was balanced out by a general good.

My office was a long way away, and the sun was out. There was not a shade-giving cloud in sight, so no comfort from the harshness of our dear star. I made my way to the building, and was sweat-soaked when I arrived in the office. It was air conditioned, though, so no complaints.

The class I observed was rather on the full side, and mostly comprised of freshmen, with a total of six sophomore/junior students. I'd go into detail, but it wasn't much to talk about, and none of you are taking the class, so a list of the assignments due won't help you at all. It was a long class, and I looked forward to not being there any longer.

I ate, talked with my new office mate, and we discovered that her computer would not allow her to log on. This was a problem, so she called the IT guys to come take a look. They came. They looked. In a matter of hours, the computer was restored to its questionably working nature. I graded a paper, poked around a bit, checked email.

I received an email from a professor at my undergrad school, asking me a few specific questions. I spent nearly an hour (yes, I *did* have this much time between classes) answering it in what I thought were excellent terms. It was tactful yet honest, acknowledged both sides of the issue at hand, and brought in several personal examples that elucidated my point. I was proof reading the email. I always proof read my emails, simply to avoid sounding stupid. It works; most of America has yet to try it, but they should.

In any case, I was reading the thing, and moving the mouse toward the send button. Okay, raise your hands if you know what's going to happen. Wave them in the air, because this is obvious, and your hand should be, too. The computer, without warning, began the shut down process, and the screen faded to black before the first curses left my lips. I threw the mouse across the room, was satisfied with the clack it made when it hit and bounced. I swore in words that shocked those around me, left them astonished as I stormed out to take a walk. I came back, tried to log on, thinking maybe it had saved the thing, although I knew it hadn't. My office mate's computer works. Mine now won't let me log on. Fury tastes like smurfs. Sort of blue, a little fuzzy, and irritating to the taste buds. Surprisingly not bitter, but rather a touch cloying.

This occurred at five-thirty. It had been raining for approximately ninety minutes. The storm blew in suddenly, with so little warning that the dust bunnies from the parking lot construction site were flying through the air in protest. The rain beat them down like disobedient children, and they didn't get back up. The rain can be overly stern at times.

My class began at six, so after ranting for a few minutes, I settled down to frantically preserve what remained in my mind of the message I had almost sent. I then gathered paper, pen, and keys, and attended class.

My day, coincidentally, was much better than the day had by some. Take, for instance, a classmate from the summer, who also shares this class. He was parked at the Walmart about seven or so blocks away. He took the bus to get onto campus. He took the wrong bus. The bus took him all over Fourth Street, but not onto campus. The driver asked him where he needed to be, and then responded that they didn't go onto campus, but he could drop him off *right here* since they were going back to the bus barn. This classmate ran through the rain to campus, across campus, and into the building. He began his run, if my timing is right, at about the same time my email was lost.

So then. My day ranks considerably above his in terms of happiness, although I didn't much enjoy it. There are two other classmates this story includes. They live very near campus. So near, in fact, that they walk. In the rain, of course, and with temperatures at about sixty degrees, they were disinclined to repeat the journey afoot. I gave all three rides to their destinations, and got used to the English system of "indicate left" instead of the American "put yer blinker on." Also, the phrase "extreme right" meaning "get in the right hand turn lane." They were frustrated with me, and I was a tad miffed at them as well, but I got them there, and we had no troubles. I then took the third classmate back to Walmart, and went home.

I seem to have gotten ahead of myself again.

My class was relatively fun, if you consider that which directly preceded it and that which followed in equally direct fashion. We read stories aloud, discussed them, and have a *lot* of writing to do. Part of the assignment is actually submitting the stuff for publication, so there's a chance I'll have more work out there, and get class credit for it. The class got out at a quarter to eight, fully one hour early. But no one complained, and we got a lot done.

I'm now going to dredge up that spectacular email from my mind, send it from this very reliable computer, shoot IT an email about their stupid POS computer, and do some readings.

All I have left to say is:

At least my car is clean.

End.