Entry tags:
So that's why it's called 'going postal'.
I have not committed homicide today.
This is worthy of note. No, really. You see, I got up exceptionally early to run an errand, and then went back to sleep, and when I woke again it was to find an email waiting for me. This missive was from my third thesis committee member, stating very politely that she had not yet actually received her copy, and as the defense is on Monday, could I please email her a version.
The same thesis that was sent via intercampus mail about a week ago.
Yeah. Bet you all didn't know I knew words like that, huh?
Long story short, campus mail kept picking it up, deciding they didn't know what to do with it, and dropping it back off at our bio office, where they circled the appropriate destination and stopped just short of attaching a map. This vicious cycle continued for days. Only no one told me. I walked into the office to find it in exactly the same position I'd left it. Also, it's been raining all day and then some, so about noon I looked like a really, really pissed-off drowned rat with hair the size of Texas and that crazed, panicked look to the eyes that speaks of small-scale armageddon. Thus ensued the mad dash to the committee member's office at the other campus - and
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greyer, I so incredibly owe you one for that - and eventually it all got sorted out. With the bonus application of fudge and gummi frogs, which make everything better. Whew. Crisis averted. I need a nap.
no subject
The quote that leaps to mind is *spin the wheel, raggedy man!" which leads me to picture some kind of ninja action ocurring.
no subject
no subject
no subject
I'm better with staff fighting, actually. Spent a full summer once learning how to hit things very fast without getting hit very hard in return. I'm definitely rusty on the hand rotations and rolling maneuvers, but one of these days I'm going to get back into it... Only sword work I've done is theater related, and thus exceedingly choreographed. Well, until Hamlet got pissy, and then all bets were off. *g*
no subject