This Is Not A Complaint

Good luck making any sense of this entry. You have my sincerest condolences as I've decided to model this entry after my current attention span. Yup. Here's a taste of what my coworkers have to deal with today:

I have stopped sleeping. It is too hot. I can't take it anymore.

This is not a complaint, simply me acknowledging that the world is hotter here this time than I can reasonably bear.

I've stopped scrounging quarters in the name of laundry in favor of hoarding them for iced coffees down the hill at the Pleasant Street Coffee House.

(I'm buzzed on cold java-- you see now that this could not possibly be a complaint.)

I've just cleaned the basement hideout where we Admissions workers stuff your envelopes with treats and informational brochures. It is rarely orderly, except after trips to the Post Office. Seeing clear desk space is calming. Maybe I can clean myself to sleep tonight. Perhaps enough Windex-ing will lower the humidity in my corner of the French House, although this is both doubtful and illogical. In the words of Winnie the Pooh, "Oh, bother."

I am also sad to report that I have forgone all environmentalist instincts in favor of standing in front of said fridge to cool myself to what I can only hope is a more sleep-conducive body temperature. Were I paying the power bill, I suspect my environmentalist side would win out more often in such situations. Until I foot the charge, I will refridgerate my legs. No one can stop me.

Holy cow, it's time to end this dribble. So, friends, it is wicked hot as we approach mid-July in the Midwest and I have had it up to my knees in the mini-fridge. I hope all those who read this get a full night of sleep. I know I certainly won't.

Hopefully Drowsily,
Julia

P.S. Happy Birthday Anacelia Saenz-- unofficial volunteer tour guide of the week!