(no subject)
ARGH, I failed to undertake a crucial pocket-check of my running jacket before I put it in the wash, and now the dryer, and all the clothes in it, is full of tiny bits of the kleenex I was carrying for my cold-weather runny nose. Oops.
Other than that, I am quickly progressing into the OMG WHAT TO WEAR??? phase of getting ready to go over to erstwhile advisor A's. My initial sartorial plan has been complicated by the fact that the cardigan I was considering, which can't go in the dryer and which should really only be handwashed anyway, unbeknownst to me spent the past few days working its way to the bottom of the mountain of clothes on the hassock next to my bed. It's now hanging up, but the kind of rumpled that probably only washing will undo. Again, oops. And hence the spur-of-the-moment laundry leading to kleenex-bits.
I also have to decide whether to take a bottle of wine over, given that I don't have anything else to bring. The bottle in question is only questionably appropriate for consumption with turkey (it's a Sancerre AOC sauvignon blanc), and bringing wine is always so daaaaaaunting. I mean, what if it's terrible? Terrible and inappropriate? As I was buying it, I had a hideous moment of "I know how to pick wine in France, but I don't know what to do with it when it's French wine labelled for export! ACK!" And then I had an even more hideous moment of "don't know what to do with French wine outside France? WHAT HAVE I BECOME?? AAACK!" I really don't think I have the fortitude for this whole hanging out with well-heeled New England intellectuals thing, guys.
Actually, I don't think I have the fortitude for this whole living among people and not alone on a mountain with a sled dog and a reindeer thing. Luckily there are people who will put up with me anyway, even when I leave a trail of bits of damp kleenex on the kitchen floor, and probably even when I bring inappropriate wine to the thanksgiving dinner that erswhile advisor was, after all, nice enough to invite me to. I suppose I should enter the spirit of the thing and be thankful for them.
So now, happy Thanksgiving, American types!
Other than that, I am quickly progressing into the OMG WHAT TO WEAR??? phase of getting ready to go over to erstwhile advisor A's. My initial sartorial plan has been complicated by the fact that the cardigan I was considering, which can't go in the dryer and which should really only be handwashed anyway, unbeknownst to me spent the past few days working its way to the bottom of the mountain of clothes on the hassock next to my bed. It's now hanging up, but the kind of rumpled that probably only washing will undo. Again, oops. And hence the spur-of-the-moment laundry leading to kleenex-bits.
I also have to decide whether to take a bottle of wine over, given that I don't have anything else to bring. The bottle in question is only questionably appropriate for consumption with turkey (it's a Sancerre AOC sauvignon blanc), and bringing wine is always so daaaaaaunting. I mean, what if it's terrible? Terrible and inappropriate? As I was buying it, I had a hideous moment of "I know how to pick wine in France, but I don't know what to do with it when it's French wine labelled for export! ACK!" And then I had an even more hideous moment of "don't know what to do with French wine outside France? WHAT HAVE I BECOME?? AAACK!" I really don't think I have the fortitude for this whole hanging out with well-heeled New England intellectuals thing, guys.
Actually, I don't think I have the fortitude for this whole living among people and not alone on a mountain with a sled dog and a reindeer thing. Luckily there are people who will put up with me anyway, even when I leave a trail of bits of damp kleenex on the kitchen floor, and probably even when I bring inappropriate wine to the thanksgiving dinner that erswhile advisor was, after all, nice enough to invite me to. I suppose I should enter the spirit of the thing and be thankful for them.
So now, happy Thanksgiving, American types!