Twice?
I wish with all my heart I was making this up. This time they called me from BNA, with all their gear loaded onto the plane. Which was now offloading. The pisser of it is, if their original flight hadn't been delayed, they would have already been in the air when the promoter cancelled, and I at least would have had the chance to see them. But no. No, instead I got to swear with them over the phone. I also got a new nickname from Steve, which is sort of fun. And now even the audio engineer from their latest album calls me Snowmeister. (Love you, too, Beau. That was the only time I outright laughed that day.)
On the plus side, this happened
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| A Mer, in her natural habitat. |
Oh yeah. That's another thing. I won't get into it in public, because he's very very private (despite being somewhat of a public figure, or maybe because he's somewhat of a public figure) but....yeah. Apparently that happened this winter, too. About damn time.
Anyway.
And then yesterday I found out that apparently I've had an office mate this entire semester. And no one bothered to tell me. Including said office mate. Someone I took an advanced-level mixed grad/undergrad class with last spring stuck her head in my office yesterday afternoon. I was surprised to see her, but really happy. Wondered why she would have tracked me down in my office on a Friday afternoon before a holiday to visit, since we weren't really close. Turns out she was looking for Kristin, who told her that her office was in 303.
Um, no. 303 is my office. Has been for two years. I've had two different office mates, neither of whom are named Kristin. Last semester I was sharing with an adjunct who wasn't teaching this spring, so I've been sort of spreading out slowly onto the surface of the other desk when I need to stack books up (which is about once a week) to sort them. Apparently this has caused Kristin to wonder who's using her desk.
And here's the thing. I am in my office, on average, four to five days a week. And I'm usually there for hours at a time. Hours. As in, I get there between 10:00 and 10:30, I go downstairs at 11:00 to teach for an hour, and then I come back upstairs and read. And read. And read. And usually I go home when it gets dark, or Sarita drags me out to the gym, which is about the same time. Anywhere from five to seven at night.
And I have never seen Kristin. Never. Not once.
The otherwise fabulous office staff (seriously, these women are amazing. Not only are they excellent at their jobs, they keep my shit together on a fairly regular basis. I love them for their snark, their humour, their adorable Woolrich sheep sweaters, and their unerring ability to pull a date, a room number, or a form out of their head or their filing cabinet without breaking their typing rhythm) didn't tell me Kristin existed. They didn't change the names on the door. So I was genuinely shocked when two minutes after this undergrad senior stuck her head in my office thinking I should be Kristin, some chick comes walking in like she owns the place and says, "Oh hi! I'm Kristin. This is my office."
Um, no. This is not your office. This is (apparently) OUR office. And who (the fuck) are you, exactly, anyway? And where have you been all semester? And why am I just finding out about you with four and a half weeks left in the semester?
Apparently she usually uses another office for conferences and office hours, but that one's currently occupied by someone doing something.
Yeah. Imagine that. So's this one. Fortunately, all I was doing was re-reading Last of the Mohicans and listening to Anderson East, so since this apparently her actual office, I could clear out of there and go home and do that on better speakers and a more comfortable chair. After I got done being all territorial and shit, I was actually really greatly amused by this whole incident.
But seriously. None of this was on my calendar for this week. Not one damn bit of it.
The universe needs to lay off the hallucinogens it's apparently been putting in my coffee. For reals.
Anyway.
And then yesterday I found out that apparently I've had an office mate this entire semester. And no one bothered to tell me. Including said office mate. Someone I took an advanced-level mixed grad/undergrad class with last spring stuck her head in my office yesterday afternoon. I was surprised to see her, but really happy. Wondered why she would have tracked me down in my office on a Friday afternoon before a holiday to visit, since we weren't really close. Turns out she was looking for Kristin, who told her that her office was in 303.
Um, no. 303 is my office. Has been for two years. I've had two different office mates, neither of whom are named Kristin. Last semester I was sharing with an adjunct who wasn't teaching this spring, so I've been sort of spreading out slowly onto the surface of the other desk when I need to stack books up (which is about once a week) to sort them. Apparently this has caused Kristin to wonder who's using her desk.
And here's the thing. I am in my office, on average, four to five days a week. And I'm usually there for hours at a time. Hours. As in, I get there between 10:00 and 10:30, I go downstairs at 11:00 to teach for an hour, and then I come back upstairs and read. And read. And read. And usually I go home when it gets dark, or Sarita drags me out to the gym, which is about the same time. Anywhere from five to seven at night.
And I have never seen Kristin. Never. Not once.
The otherwise fabulous office staff (seriously, these women are amazing. Not only are they excellent at their jobs, they keep my shit together on a fairly regular basis. I love them for their snark, their humour, their adorable Woolrich sheep sweaters, and their unerring ability to pull a date, a room number, or a form out of their head or their filing cabinet without breaking their typing rhythm) didn't tell me Kristin existed. They didn't change the names on the door. So I was genuinely shocked when two minutes after this undergrad senior stuck her head in my office thinking I should be Kristin, some chick comes walking in like she owns the place and says, "Oh hi! I'm Kristin. This is my office."
Um, no. This is not your office. This is (apparently) OUR office. And who (the fuck) are you, exactly, anyway? And where have you been all semester? And why am I just finding out about you with four and a half weeks left in the semester?
Apparently she usually uses another office for conferences and office hours, but that one's currently occupied by someone doing something.
Yeah. Imagine that. So's this one. Fortunately, all I was doing was re-reading Last of the Mohicans and listening to Anderson East, so since this apparently her actual office, I could clear out of there and go home and do that on better speakers and a more comfortable chair. After I got done being all territorial and shit, I was actually really greatly amused by this whole incident.
But seriously. None of this was on my calendar for this week. Not one damn bit of it.
The universe needs to lay off the hallucinogens it's apparently been putting in my coffee. For reals.
