The Week Ends, The Week Begins

"One of the major difficulties Trillian experienced in her relationship with Zaphod was learning to distinguish him pretending to be stupid just to get people off their guard, pretending to be stupid because he couldn't be bothered to think and wanted someone else to do it for him, pretending to be outrageously stupid to hide the fact that he actually didn't know what was going on, and really being genuinely stupid.

He was renowned for being amazingly clever and quite clearly was so-but not all the time, which obviously worried him, hence the act. He preferred people to be puzzled rather than contemptuous. This above all appeared to Trillian to be genuinely stupid, but she could no longer be bothered to argue about it."

-The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
by Douglas Adams

* * * *

Today almost wasn't my first day of school.

I hadn't slept very well. It had been a fitful night of dreaming; happy dreams that nonetheless left me emotionally drained before I even began to fumble for the snooze button on the alarm clock.

The drive to work was pleasant. The air was cool and the skyline offered only the tease of sunrise. I didn't need my sunglasses but I wore them anyway so the wind wouldn't dry out my contact lenses.

Mondays are my long days. I slurm into the mail-room by 6 and I am not released until 4:30. I manage to stay upbeat for most of the day, but by the last couple of hours I begin to flag noticeably.

I left work and drove to campus. The morning coolness had long since fled. The radio stated that the temperature was around 110 degrees Fahrenheit. Oddly enough, even in my un-air-conditioned car and my business casual attire, I was barely breaking a sweat.

I am a desert rat. Well, I'd say more of a desert shrew. They're feistier and not as intelligent.

I start to shiver when I get into cars with air-conditioning.

But there was no lack of warmth this afternoon. I parked my car and sauntered into alien territory. I had only been on this campus once before when I registered for my classes.

Unfortunately, this was of little aid since none of my classes were going to be held in the Advisement Office or Cashier Services.

I humbled myself and studied a campus map on a kiosk. I decided that I should pick up the textbooks since the course description referred to them as "required." If "required" held the same meaning as the "Shirt and Shoes Required" signs displayed most public eateries, purchasing the books would certainly save me time and bail money.

I found the first book on my little list. It was very easy to find since the book was right next to the sign that displayed the section number of my class along with big, yellow letters that read "Class Cancelled."

My hand instinctively went to the hunk of pewter around my neck that happens to resemble an albatross.

This would be an inconvenience. I had spent considerable time with a very patient advisor formulating a schedule that would satisfy my requirements while leaving my sanity, (if perhaps not my social life) relatively intact.

But on the other wing, I could just take a lighter credit load. I would have my money refunded, I could focus on my other classes, have my Mondays free.

"Drat," I sighed. I hoofed out of the bookstore and went to wait in line to speak to my advisor. I was glad that I had remembered to bring my copy of Starship Troopers by Robert Heinlen.

Several skirmishes with giant arachnids on alien planets later, I spoke to my advisor. He seemed to remember me. I explained that someone was out to thwart our well-crafted plans and we should act swiftly and accordingly.

We did.

I replaced the Geography class that was Missing In Action with a Biology class that fulfilled much the same requirements and was almost exactly the same time. Which meant I was late.

While I like biology, I had been excited to learn about geography because I know so little about it. It is one of the more glaring deficiencies in my knowledge.

I attended my class, returned home around 7:30 pm, and partook in the abundant spaghetti my mama made.

I ate quietly, trying to feel out what will soon become a routine.

In a final act of defiance, I went out to the bar to meet with Sibbitt, Beth, Donovan, Mai, Lauren, Kiki, and Dana. We watched the Olympics on the many hanging televisions, grappled with the notion of becoming working professionals, and briefly discussed Disney characters.

Now I'm here with my blog, a book, and white shirts with a new, bluish tint because I threw them in with some of my jeans. The drying cycle has completed, and the shirts and jeans are wrinkling as we speak.

I find myself less bothered by the wrinkled, blue clothing than I might have imagined. Whom do I have to impress? The only being around is my bug-eyed dog, whom I call The Noobers. He barely raises his head when I come in this late. Plus, he's color-blind.

Now I must be off. To remove laundry from the dryer, upon removing perchance to hang up in the closet, hung up perchance to un-wrinkle.

To dress perchance to impress. To hope that I become what the eyes make welcome to the heart.

To sleep.