Vignettes of a Typical Monday

I. In Which our Heroine Occasions to Lose a Small Dead Frog Amongst her Possessions.

After taking the picture of the dead frog in its little quarentine container (see previous post), I accidentally knocked it of the desk and spilled the dead frog and dead frog's water all over the pile of stuff surrounding my desk. I then proceeded to spend about five minutes crawling on my hands and knees sifting through piles of homework and other things, looking for a tiny frog corpse. I finally found it stuck fast to a wooden box, and pretty much had to scrape it back into the container. I think I almost retched. Also, the water went all over everything -- my homework, some textbooks, and yes, on my bed. The same bed I'm sitting in now and the same bed that I will (hopefully) sleep in tonight. I'm just trying not to think about it. Denial is a whole lot easier than washing sheets at 11:30 at night.

II. In Which our Heroine is Chased by her Theory Professor and Narrowly Evades Capture.

Another funny thing happened a little later, at the music building. I have Theory at 10:00, and then Studio at 11:00 in the same room (but with a different prof). I definitely skipped Theory this morning, but decided that I couldn't afford to miss Studio, so I got to the music building at about 10:50, just as classes were getting out. I didn't want to see my Theory prof and have him ask why I hadn't just been in class, so being the mature young woman that I am, I hid around a corner and spied on the classroom until he left for his office. Well, either I did a terrible job of hiding or Dr. Metz has some freakish intuition, because as soon as he walked out of the classroom he looked directly at me. I saw about a half-second's worth of realization on his face as he thought something along the lines of, "Hey! Isn't that Liz? Shouldn't she have been in class?" An odd mix of panic and rebellion took over me, and I did the thing that any self-respecting class-ditcher would do: I bolted. I took off down the nearest hallway, and when I turned to see if I had been tailed I saw at the end of the hall my friend Loren, talking to someone I couldn't see but who I was pretty sure was Metz. I heard Loren say something like, "Yeah, actually, she just ran down this hall" and saw him point in my direction (the traitor!). So I turned on my heel and took off again, this time down a back stairwell and into the basement. I don't know if Metz followed me down the stairs or not, but either way I definitely gave him the slip because I didn't see him again and made it safely to Studio class. Retrospectively, it was pretty surreal and also pretty awesome. Seriously -- how often do you get the chance to run away, James Bond-style, from one of your professors? I guess I'll find out Wednesday if I'm in big trouble or not.

III. In Which our Heroine Avoids, by Means of a Blog Entry, the Same Takehome Test which she Avoided Last Night (by the Same Means) and Upon Which she is Now Convicted to Work Diligently Until its Completion.

'Nuff said ... time to hit the books. I just wish the books didn't still have yucky frog water all over them.

Found in Him,
Liz