Last NightPosted: November 17, 2010
I was in the Chopper of Price from 11 pm to 5:15 am last night. I’m going to go ahead and say that I spent the night in Price Chopper. Carl and I camped out in a booth and cranked out our essays. I hit my limit around 3:30, and slept a little on the bench, but, between the caffeine, the soul and pop music, this weird repeating sound effect that plays really often somewhere near us, and worries about having a Price Chopper employee wake me up and run me off for being a bum, I didn’t sleep well. Unfortunately, I had run out of umph to keep working on the paper, but wasn’t sleeping. That was a little rough, but I slept for about an hour
Random thoughts I keep wanting to text someone, but everyone is asleep, or tell Carl, but he needed to work: (I was super jittery from the energy drinks and exhaustion)
In Peru, I would finish my getting ready for the day most days when I was alone in the apartment by listening to “It Ain’t Me Babe” and “Jackson” by Johnny Cash from the Walk the Line soundtrack before I headed out the door.
There’s a skateboarding magazine. It looks cool.
Last Christmas was such a long time ago. I’d just finished my first semester of college, and Oxbridge, I was just really becoming friends with Cyntaur, I barely knew Carl, I hadn’t gone through tutorial, I hadn’t finished my first year of college, I hadn’t spent a summer in Peru, Grandpa wasn’t even sick… lots of things.
I need hangers.
I really need a printer.
How late do I need to be in here before I can say that I’ve spent the night at a Price Chopper? (2:39 am)
I accidentally tried to ctrl+s (the short-cut to save) my text messages
It’s awesome and a little overwhelmingly full of choices to be hanging out in a grocery store and be hungry late at night. So much fits the description of what you want: food, and not vending machine junk either! You’re in the actual grocery store, the source of food to which you’d which you could turn if you weren’t here.
I really, really wanted (and let’s be honest… still want) one of the rad die-cast cars. Oh man, I can’t even tell you. I’ve wanted one of those since Susan got Dad one for one of his birthdays. Or maybe it was Mom, because it was a model of his rad truck that he had, that still makes me sad that he sold it. Anyway, if I bought one, I could drive it around on the table! And open the doors! That’s the mental level I’m operating at on every other pursuit besides my paper (and maybe even on that. let’s hope not, yo.).
Padding around a place in one’s mismatched socks is a kind of marking ritual for Oxbridgers. It says, “I am
Dr. Pepper, an Amp, two water bottles full of the “tropical water”, and some water have made me have to run to the bathroom so. many. times. today.
2700 semi-quality words! Boo-freaking-ya! Time for a nap on the (3:20 am) booth bench. I’m pretty sure sleeping means that I get to count it for “spending a night in a Chopper of Prices”, also worth a booyah.
Our professor described the consequences of stress and exhaustion, and it’s super depressing because she was prophesying the rest of my day today and tomorrow, and describing what this whole week has been. It’s like she was saying, “Karen, let me describe to you how miserable you will. Here, here’s the scope of all of the problems that you’re causing for yourself.” And then she said that caffeine could be a drug. BAH. Looks like I need to sign up for Narcotics Anonymous, because I need caffeine. On the upside, she said that I am not my grade. So, that’s a plus.