#10

There is a…I don’t know how to describe it exactly…our courtyard is paved with flat rectangular paving stones of appreciable size, and the thing about them is some of them no longer fit well in their original casings (presumably because Ireland, in dampness, is superior to some parts of the Pacific Ocean). And so one side of them ,generally, is slanted down which is where the daily rainfall collects (as all of us are equal children of God’s gravity, but some of us more than others). And the thing is, see, as you’re walking along, you’re not going to step in the wet pool, so you step on the other side, but that’s a bad idea because as everyone knows, if you step on the raised side of a vertical plane, what happens? Yes, it forms at that point what I like to refer to as a “water catapult,” dousing your leg from the knee down (drowning hapless leprechauns) and then you have the enviable task of walking to class, or around campus, with a wet leg, a wet shoe, and a poor dead leprechaun on your conscience.

I hope, ten dispatches in that we can be honest with each other. I’ve described already the laundry situation—that, in short, if ever I want to do it, I have to carry my laundry for about 15 minutes to the front of college, pay 3 euros (about five bucks) per wash and a euro per dry, carry it 15 minutes back (what, you thought it’d get shorter? My, we are parenthetical today….) and then hang it up around the tiny room anyway because actually that dryer is just a leprechaun with a hair dryer, and also, your pants leg is wet anyhow. What I haven’t described, I suppose, is the effect this has on my daily life. Basically, when I can put off laundry no longer, I pull out a suitcase, and then I pull out my large heap of dirty clothes. Then I look from one to the other, say no f—in way. And then-and here’s where it gets hairy-- I start deciding which things actually aren’t that dirty after all and put them back in my closet. Sweaters, overshirts, things that probably didn’t actually touch my skin, lacy underwear…that kind of thing.

I know, gross. And some shirts just get cut out of the rotation altogether. I can hear my mother saying “you should have brought them home over winter break!!!” Chillax, ma.

I’VE BECOME MORE BEAST THAN MAN.

And just as well, because I am once again living in a cave. That’s right, another light has burned out. Perhaps burned out is too strong a word; what I mean really is flicker uncontrollably. This is twice the problem actually because it’s the main light, and uses the same switch as the one that controls the only other light in the room. So we choose between catalytic, twitchy fit, and darkness. Am I writing this dispatch and doing all my reading by table lamp? I am, thank you for your concern. Will this ever be fixed? Answer hazy, ask again later.

I tell you guys. Prices are so high here, you’d think there’d be a lot of cash to go around, and you’d think some of that cash might go to fixing some stuff that’s broken. There’s a leak in the walkway between my building in the rest of campus. Been there for weeks. Do they fix it? Nah. They just add more buckets…there are about five now…

ITS BECOME MORE BUCKET…DEN… THAN HALLWAY…..
(I heart parallelism).
News in brief: Recent basketball games: 1) showed up to, did not play. We lost (wonder why, huh?). 2) Did not show up, we lost by same amount (my cheering apparently has no discernible effect? Sad). Superbowl coming up, no comment (Go giants. Gross). Adipose tissue, still as was when left. What are my roommates listening to? Me playing the Killers’ read my mind constantly, loudly, poorly on guitar. Etc.
I learned yesterday the reason that the library is a terrific eyesore. Seems they were going for a hanging gardens of Babylon thing (no, really, this time) only the architect forgot to calculate for the weight of the soil. So after everything sprung leaks they had the place de-potted, so to speak, which is why it now looks like three giant, empty flowerpots stacked on top of each other.

I’ve gone out a few nights in a row this last week, so I’ve had a hard time leaving enough money to, you know, eat food. This has caused some borderline dangerous activity on my part. Last night I had “Big Al’s Chili-Lime Chicken Mini-Fillets” for dinner. I bought them half price, for 1,50 euros at a grocery store. For the last week I’ve been eating mostly a packet of seasoned chicken I bought, opened, put in the fridge, and occasionally put on bread, with cheese, grill, eat. Problem is I have no cellophane or anything so even though its been in the fridge, it has been opened. Other items on my food list recently include microwaveable spring rolls, zap ‘em till they’re soggy. I’m still alive, but for how long?

Brief update: Sunday night, pouring out of a bar like a Guinness myself, I eyed, finally and for the first time, the “restaurant” across the street whose halogen name blazed only “Hot Food.” I had heretofore always assumed this was a warning sign, as in really? That’s the best you can do? I think most places have that as the starter set. But that night…
That night, for less than 4 euros (you can barely get a coke for less than four euros) I took home some bizarre hamburger crossover, whom they may have had to chop the legs off briefly before serving. Owing to the light situation, I consumed it in darkness, and have no recollection at all of what it may have looked like. That only made it more delicious.
Seriously, I’m not sure I’m going to keep living.
In other news, a truly terrible thing happened to me this morning. I went to buy shampoo, having run out the day before, but accidentally pick up conditioner. Just conditioner. I then went to take a shower, and I had NO IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON. It wouldn’t go into my hair! And then it wouldn’t come out of my hair! I didn’t know what had happened, or what to do about it!

It pretty much ruined my day.

Have I done anything in these past weeks? Not really, I suppose. Papers, I blame papers, an unfortunate occupational hazard of this brave line of work. I hereby promise to get out a little bit more, and ignore, more forcefully, the promptings of my inner conscience. For you, my friends, for you. Achievements? I don’t know, but beGod, I’ve kept a pint or two company all the way to the bottom of the glass.

Love,
A