A Day (and apparently two posts) for Laundry

[For background story, please read: A Day for Laundry]
Waiting to do laundry can get boring really fast. I decided to leave my bag there and run home to get my phone. I might just have the strongest wifi signal know to mankind, and I had never been more thankful for it than yesterday. I could conveniently browse Youtube videos from a block away while waiting for people to transfer their laundry; thereby preserving my sanity.

After a long while, washer #3 guy came over and transferred his stuff. I gratefully dumped my load of dirty clothes into the washer along with a generous amount of detergent. I am still not sure what I was trying to accomplish. It was not as if the clothes got dirtier from the waiting. Anyhow, I went back home, knowing that I did not have to return for another 30 minutes. I spent that time peacefully having a Skype conversation with my husband (I still find the term new and exciting after two years).

I got back to discover that washer#3 guy (henceforth referred to as dryer#3 guy, due to the changed circumstances) was not back yet. Since I was there, and assumed that at least someone would be responsible enough to get their dried laundry out of dryers 1-2, I decided to wait. While waiting, I had the opportunity of getting back in touch with people I hadn't called in months. I silently thanked God and my phone carrier for unlimited weekend minutes.

Soon washers#1,2 girl came along to get her clothes out of (surprise, surprise) dryers#1,2. That girl sure had a lot of stuff to wash. She proceeded to transfer her stuff from the washers to the dryers and set the timer for 90 minutes. I sighed and went back home. I returned an hour later to find that dryer #3 guy hadn't come back for his stuff. I was beginning to lose my cool a little. Did he not know that there were people with wet laundry waiting for him? (The answer was that he probably didn't). By now, it was almost 5 and I needed to submit a paper online.

I went home to do that, and came back an hour and a long shower later, to discover that all the dryers had stopped running but no one had taken their clothes out. That, my friends, was my snapping point. I went home, got a couple of Walmart bags, and stuffed dryer#3 guy's clothes into the bag. I then proceeded to load my five hours old wet clothes into the dryer. I was just putting my quarters (which I had taken out of my 50 states collection) into the slot when the girl of the 2 dryers fame arrived. What timing! I could have surely avoided my passive aggressive behavior if she had come but 5 minutes earlier.

After giving her a smile (I was too disgruntled for other pleasantries), I hurried off home for fear that I would run into dryer#3 guy and have to explain the situation. I would start calling him plastic bag guy, but I think we've changed his name enough times. As soon as my 45 minutes were up, I was back to collect my dried clothes. Unfortunately, the clothes weren't nearly dry enough but I didn't want to be around when dryer#3 guy came along. So I hauled my semi-dry clothes home for a thorough air drying.

And that, folks, is how I wasted a whole day doing laundry. I just wish I had done a better job of it so I didn't have to hunt out each item from various flat surfaces around the house today, to finish a relatively simple task that I started 20 hours ago. On the plus side though, I am in touch with more people now, have blogged after more than a year, and have a new Twitter account. Not a bad trade.

A Day for Laundry

Yesterday had so much potential. It was one of those rare times when I had the day off from work, with the husband away visiting family, no upcoming deadlines, and beautiful weather (not sure about that last one, but no harm, right?). I had even done the dishes the previous night and the bed was all made up. So I was looking forward to having the entire day to myself. You already know this is going to disintegrate one of my rants, so without further ado...

I started the day off with a nice hot cup of toffee-flavored coffee and BBC. Life was never better. When suddenly: the phone rang. It was my boss. I reluctantly closed my browser and got to work. That wasn't too bad really. I had finished all the interesting news stories and I didn't mind a little work in the morning (checked the phone to find out it was just before 9 am). When I finally finished by 12, I got a thanks (aww) and some fresh work (wwa!... = reverse aww). Still, nothing could disturb my equilibrium. Or so I thought.

I made a quick pasta lunch for my brother and myself. Poor kid still doesn't complain. And it's not like before. I can now make a variety of interesting dishes. I just choose not to. When I was done, I got out the laundry bag that was about half full and hauled it out of the house. That's one thing I never understood about myself: how I can tear a tennis ball (figuratively speaking) down the line with my considerably heavy tennis racket, but cannot, for the life of me, carry a laundry bag across the lot without a minimum of two breaks.

This was a task I usually entrusted to either my brother or my husband, but since my husband was away and the bro was nursing a ligament tear, the responsibility had fallen on my (as previously mentioned) weak shoulders. Let's just say that if I was Atlas, there would be a shattered Earth. Or maybe a bouncing Earth. Not too clear on Greek mythology. In any case, the cause of it would be me buckling under the weight rather than shrugging (I'm not much of a shrugger now, I use my words).

So imagine my disappointment when I get to the laundry room and find a girl using two out of three washers with the third one already occupied. Luckily washer #3 was close to the end of its cycle. So I made small talk with the 2-washer girl to get my breath back, then walked back to dump the laundry bag in the trunk of my car. I washed up the lunch things, tackled a little more work, and went back about half an hour later to find that all three washers were done but the owners hadn't come to collect their stuff yet. I was not about to carry the bag back across the road, so I waited..

Credit-ed

Well, I got my very first credit card not too long ago. I haven't made a payment yet, so it definitely hasn't been a month yet. I am not too comfortable with the idea of being in debt even temporarily. Call me naive, but I feel that spending money that I don't yet have is unsustainable, and hence a bad idea. You have to pay up sometime, don't you? When I was activating my card, the customer service representative almost talked me into buying employment loss protection for "just $8.99 a month", which I definitely don't need. In fact, I had no idea I was being signed up for it. It just seemed like a sales pitch till the person said; "So yes, I have just enrolled you into the programme". To which, I replied, "eh..... what?" That's my standard response when people start thinking things I haven't said (happens to me at Subway way more than you'd think possible). Note to self: come up with better surprised response. Anyway, I feel increasingly tempted to use the card as the days go by and my initial reluctance wears off. Credit now, think later. More updates as the story progresses.

In other news, my cooking has picked up somewhat after my husband's visit. The objective during the first few days was to completely mesmerize him with my culinary skills (i.e., the opposite of 'eh....what?'), after which it dropped to the much more reasonable hope of not having him remember this vacation as the 'Summer of Starvation'. I wonder what he thinks of his 45 days down in the south of.... oh wait, my location is top secret. I do think I'd make a great Hagrid, what with keeping secrets and all that. My brother and I were on a Harry Potter marathon last weekend, and the effects haven't worn off yet. Might as well stop before my thoughts start meandering even more. Goodnight!

Parenting 101

There's nothing that will teach you to be a parent faster than living with a younger sibling, whether a minor or otherwise. Because the truth is, siblings never grow up, at least not in your eyes. Where everyone else sees a 5'10" 21 year old man, I see a 4 year old, with a shy smile, who needs me to hold his hand while crossing the road, and loves bedtime stories.

Sharing an apartment with my brother for a little less than a month has made me realize that this 'kid' has long ago stopped throwing tantrums, saying cute things almost on cue and is also too big to be carrying around (yeah, I am a little slow sometimes). Being in college for the past 8 years (wow!), I've missed this little guy's transition into adulthood almost completely.

Now, having to do all the cleaning, cooking, ironing and clearing up, I do feel like a mom. Also, I begin to appreciate the effort that my Mom had to make when we were kids. Between telling my brother to get off the computer, helping him plan coursework, trying to think of new dishes to make, arranging stuff around the house and doing grocery shopping, while balancing regular lab work during the week, I have little or no time left to waste on the internet and generally laze around. This, more than anything else, is what will prepare me for managing my own future family.

However, in spite of all the extra work and responsibility, I am very, very thankful to have a family member in such close proximity. Oh, I almost forgot to mention the one childhood quality he still hasn't lost (and this is very important): the ability to laugh at all my jokes, however poor they may be. God bless little brothers and their capacity to care.

March Madness

I love how they call it that. Like, yeah, let's get mad about the college sports season; and forget about other stuff. Not literally, of course. That would be disastrous. Like forgetting to send results to your professor for review. I tend to take the literal meaning of acronyms like A.S.A.P. Yeah, when you say it like that, it sounds like something you want done Right Now. But if you expand it, it means, do it as soon as possible. See how much more relaxed that sounds? Maybe that's why people use it like a word in conversation these days: I want that report Ayesap.

Knowing how these things work, I can now say (to no one in particular, because I'm a very lonely person) that I want my next vacation to come asap. I miss home-cooked meals. I live in a home and can (ahem) cook, but it's just not the same. Home-cooked meals are meals you want to eat, not tomatoes floating in slightly spicy water and overcooked rice. I hope my one and only reader won't be put off by this. All I can say is: you brought this on yourself. You should have considered the consequences of eventually living with me when you signed that paper. [Now, in case I am wrong and more than one person reads this blog for whatever reason, just ignore that last line].

I tried playing stick tennis today. I have played tennis on a PS3 before, so having my ass handed to me is not a new experience. I try not to let that happen in real life, with a reasonably high success rate. It was infuriating to be on the receiving end of 4 aces in a row. I mean who does that automaton think he is? Ivo Karlovic? I wonder if he knows it's illegal to even drive a car at 251 km/h. I meant Karlovic, not the computer. The computer really doesn't need that kind of fire-power to outclass me- yet. I can never give up on lost causes. I have a feeling I'll be playing a lot more of that game in the coming weeks. Till I get a game. Maybe even a set. So watch out for me, computer man.

Pooky Speaks (Again)

Looks like I haven't written in the past 3 months. Well, that's what happens when I finally have other things to do in life. And this last statement, dear reader, should be the text-book definition of wishful thinking. Now that our English lesson for the day is over, let me tell you what I have really been up to. First, I prepared for a conference, and then I attended it. (Make no mistake, I have been known to do it the other way around occasionally). My only clear memory of that trip is of being charged for excess baggage because of a poster I was carrying. Oh, I just thought of another one: seeing a homeless man dressed more warmly than I was. Of course, I should have known better than to wear a skirt suit with no overcoat in sub-zero temperatures.

Then, when I got back, my laptop was stolen by some very professional thieves. I say professional, because they did an extremely thorough job of finding not just my laptop, but also the charger, which was in another room, and my headphones (which were attached to the laptop). They also managed to make off with both my roommates' laptops, presumably so that these could keep mine company, in case mine wasn't happy enough being reunited with its soul-mate, the charger (On days when I felt particularly sadistic, I would intentionally keep those two apart). I just have a few last words: Dear laptop, you were sorely missed (for two weeks, till I got a new one). But I'm so over you now, I've even stopped electronically tracking you. Farewell, my friend.

After the semester exams, I went home for the holidays. For some reason, I never have anything to say about holidays. They tend to either rush by like a whirlwind, or creep along like traffic on the Dubai-Sharjah highway. Which makes them difficult to summarize. You know, it's strange that I can't think of anything slower than traffic on a random highway to compare uneventful vacation days to. I must be getting rusty.

I haven't made any new year resolutions this year, but it's too late now. You ask how I know that? Because people have already started to abandon theirs. I don't want to be out-of-date. Maybe I'll make next year's resolutions now. Like a pre-emptive strike on my excuse of not having resolutions, to avoid making lifestyle changes.

Lab Space

For most grad students involved in any kind of research-good, mediocre, misguided... whatever, the lab is their first home. Being a typical grad student with no life, I fall into that category. Our lab recently moved into a new building, and there was a mad rush to choose the best spots for hard-core research/ uninterrupted daydreaming. Being the last one on the scene I got the worst possible desk location, with my back and (more importantly) my computer screen facing the door. We lab rats (can't hide from the truth, can we?) are generally docile creatures who take what we get. Our professor, however, was outraged that all the (gentle)men of the lab had given the lady the worst desk. Well, it had been a while since we thought of ourselves in those terms. So long, in fact, that the words themselves seemed archaic and somewhat unnatural. Understandably, nobody offered to give up their seat, and the professor had told me to choose whichever seat I wanted and tell the person occupying it to move to my place. I did just this, and promptly got kicked out by that person the next morning, when he saw the new arrangement. That is the last time I move someone's stuff without informing them first. Fortunately, he doesn't hold a grudge. I kicked him out, he kicked me out, and we're even. I even learned a lesson in the process. Anyway, I like my new place now (I do not have a choice; after all, it is practically my home). It's actually got the most light, too. Not sunlight, silly. Corridor light. You really thought grad students get sunlight? Not unless we walk home for lunch because we need the Vitamin D.