As flu season approaches, the McGill staff at McConnell pays attention to their students' needs.
Here, this tissue box decorated in a scenic natural pattern reminds those sick, stuffed up, and needing a tissue from the outside world.
For those shut in studying, the view of rocks is a subtle reminder that there’s more to life than CHEM 180.
They don’t have these luxuries over in Molson.
Speaking of Molson, the room checks have been completed, and the Keurig can emerge from its hibernation in the closet; not that I have been able to use it.
To those of you who haven’t been subjected to my Keurig issues: I left the reusable cup there during the first couple weeks of school without washing it, and to my great surprise, it got moldy. I still haven’t done anything to remedy this issue, which causes searing displeasure in the first thirty minutes of waking up every morning.
My options are as follows: buy vinegar and soak the reusable cup, killing the mold, or buy disposable pods. If I’m being honest, I’m veering toward the disposable pods. I’m going to go to the grocery store and see where the tides take me.
Unfortunate obstacles: they come with the trade
While writing this, I cut myself and started bleeding so much that I needed to put it aside for the moment. I even had to put on a bandaid. You might be wondering: Violet, what happened? Did you do it while cooking? While climbing a sharp fence? (I’m not sure if anyone was wondering that specifically, I decided to add it in for my own gain)
Well, if either option was your guess, you were wrong.
My right pinky was the innocent casualty of cleaning my room, made into a victim as I picked up my razor from the windowsill drying en route to putting it away.
Both thankfully and unfortunately, this injury was not likely deep enough to be added to my repertoire of battle scars. (A collection made up of old mosquito bites, pencil wounds, and one from a mysterious gash on my ankle I have no recollection of getting). BadAss is my middle name. (VBW). It’s true; look at my student visa.
Some thoughts on the early bird… does it get the worm?
To my dismay, I’ve started waking up before/during the sunrise to get to my English class on time.
“Waking up.” And hey - it’s not even daylight savings yet. Is there a fix for this? Maybe. I do wake up an hour and a half before my class starts. Somehow, I’m not sure what I spend my morning doing, but I never seem to have extra time.
The eight thirty class really wasn’t even bad up until a week ago, I thought everyone had been exaggerating to me at how deeply I would regret it. Oh well. Really, there’s only a month to go.
Some more core issues
At the ripe age of eighteen, I still struggle to open oranges. This has been an issue plaguing me for years, and unfortunately, I think it’s here to stay.
I actually wrote part of this blog post to avoid finishing peeling my breakfast orange.
While some people, to my immense jealousy, are able to make it look easy; finishing the job in one or two goes, I am a part of the group who can only seem to make it happen in pathetically small increments.
Plus, i refuse to close my windows, so on a cold morning like today, where my joints are only working at half capacity, the tough orange skin is too big of a battle for the mere hour of 7:25.
The meager spoils of my labor
As they say, as the stakes rise, you must rise with them. Be no one’s fool. Step up to the challenge. God gives his toughest battle to his strongest soldiers. Many other quotes.
What’s the battle we must now courageously face? Not going clubbing on pre-Halloween, Friday night. It started off strong, despite rehearsing my response internally, walking between two rez’s, perfecting what I would say if I ran into someone I knew, I made it without any major interactions.
Lola joined in this stealth mission as well, using her own methods. The strongest cheetah in the pack is able to blend with the herd. In this case, the cheetah is Lola, and the herd is the mass of costumed neighbors taking on the night.
Peace. 🙏
Violet
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