A Fit of Dullness
By Western’s decree, commuter students have to park either at the top of the hill in the Chestnut lot or down at the bottom of the hill in the parking garage. Grise Hall (where my accounting class is) is almost exactly halfway in between the two, so there’s not much difference in the distance and doesn’t matter where I park.
It seems I was destined to have yet another dull moment yesterday. I tried to park in the Chestnut lot, but as there was not a spot to be found, I went to the bottom of the hill and parked in the parking garage instead. When I got out of my car, I was welcomed with the really loud music of an outdoor concert out on the lawn. The music was not the best I’d ever heard, and I was happy to make my way halfway up the hill and leave it behind. I went to my music class, then to Accounting. Because the teacher had a cold, she let us out an hour early, which RARELY happens. We were all so glad, and I was eager to make the most of the unexpected gift of an hour.
I stepped outside and once again heard the terrible music. I just shook my head and started walking. As I passed the library parking lot where the faculty parks, I recognized the unmistakable outline of one of my former professors at the far end of the parking lot—my least favorite prof, as it turns out.
I was almost to the math building at the top of the hill when I realized I was headed toward Chestnut—NOT the parking structure where my car was waiting. I literally did a double-take right there at the pedestrian crosswalk. My mouth dropped open, figuratively speaking, but there was no help for it. I did an abrupt turnabout and started heading back down the hill. OH, but I was cross. I didn’t mind the extra walking so much; it was the wasted time that got me! I was so mad, in fact, that I [very briefly] considered sprinting down to the library parking lot and begging a ride off my former professor. I could NOT believe that I had done something so dull, and it practically ruined the entire 30-minute ride back home.
So anyway, this morning after Economics, I was telling Michelle what I had done. I had no more than gotten it out when her mouth dropped open, and she said, “I did the very same thing the other day…except the exact opposite!!” She went on to say that unlike me (going to the top, then walking all the way down), she had left Grise and walked all the way down to the bottom before she realized her car was parked at the top. “I was in such a snit, you would not believe it!” she said emphatically. “I literally called my daddy to come get me and drive me to the top of the hill! I was so mad!!” Her dad couldn’t come, so she tried a friend. But by the time she was finished talking to her friend, she had calmed down a bit. She decided that she really did need the exercise, and so she would just walk up the hill—a good twenty-minute walk.
Michelle and I were comparing our horror stories as we were walking up the hill from the aforementioned Grise, and as we did so, I’m sure we made quite the sight—for we were literally dissolving into hysterical laughter and having a hard time even walking in a straight line.
Dullness is simply better-handled when experienced in pairs.
It seems I was destined to have yet another dull moment yesterday. I tried to park in the Chestnut lot, but as there was not a spot to be found, I went to the bottom of the hill and parked in the parking garage instead. When I got out of my car, I was welcomed with the really loud music of an outdoor concert out on the lawn. The music was not the best I’d ever heard, and I was happy to make my way halfway up the hill and leave it behind. I went to my music class, then to Accounting. Because the teacher had a cold, she let us out an hour early, which RARELY happens. We were all so glad, and I was eager to make the most of the unexpected gift of an hour.
I stepped outside and once again heard the terrible music. I just shook my head and started walking. As I passed the library parking lot where the faculty parks, I recognized the unmistakable outline of one of my former professors at the far end of the parking lot—my least favorite prof, as it turns out.
I was almost to the math building at the top of the hill when I realized I was headed toward Chestnut—NOT the parking structure where my car was waiting. I literally did a double-take right there at the pedestrian crosswalk. My mouth dropped open, figuratively speaking, but there was no help for it. I did an abrupt turnabout and started heading back down the hill. OH, but I was cross. I didn’t mind the extra walking so much; it was the wasted time that got me! I was so mad, in fact, that I [very briefly] considered sprinting down to the library parking lot and begging a ride off my former professor. I could NOT believe that I had done something so dull, and it practically ruined the entire 30-minute ride back home.
So anyway, this morning after Economics, I was telling Michelle what I had done. I had no more than gotten it out when her mouth dropped open, and she said, “I did the very same thing the other day…except the exact opposite!!” She went on to say that unlike me (going to the top, then walking all the way down), she had left Grise and walked all the way down to the bottom before she realized her car was parked at the top. “I was in such a snit, you would not believe it!” she said emphatically. “I literally called my daddy to come get me and drive me to the top of the hill! I was so mad!!” Her dad couldn’t come, so she tried a friend. But by the time she was finished talking to her friend, she had calmed down a bit. She decided that she really did need the exercise, and so she would just walk up the hill—a good twenty-minute walk.
Michelle and I were comparing our horror stories as we were walking up the hill from the aforementioned Grise, and as we did so, I’m sure we made quite the sight—for we were literally dissolving into hysterical laughter and having a hard time even walking in a straight line.
Dullness is simply better-handled when experienced in pairs.
posted by Kris at 10/05/2005 06:58:00 PM
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