All My Gettings

I have recently, as the phrase goes, come into some money. Not a whole lot of money, mind, but some. What is particularly eerie about this (besides the fact that it came as a complete shock and is entirely unlike my parents to do something like this) is that just the night before, I was talking to a friend. He asked me where in the world I would go if I suddenly had a few thousand dollars to travel. Now the real answer to this question for me is Omaha and Oklahoma (a long story which is neither interesting nor charming). However, you can't say something stateside in such a situation, so I gave my number three option, which is Beijing. And then, the next day I suddenly have the funds for just such a trip. If I believed in signs and destinies and so forth, I'd probably hop aboard a plane ASAP.

The trip's not going to be taken, though. The money will, sadly, most likely go towards something I've already purchased (either my car or my two years of grad school). I feel so responsible and bland. Particularly because I make more than enough money to satisfy my debts.

However, the making of said money is making me more than slightly irritated with the knowledge that I'll be working tomorrow until 7.30pm for orientation and that I have to come in on Saturday without compensation. I'm salaried, see, so these extra hours don't mean more money, just more time. Oh, and I'm confused at textbook publishers. Apparently, they need 24 to 48 hours to get a quote out to you. Since I'm 99.9% sure that this system is automated, why can't you just call up, have them punch in ISBNs and then they can email you the quote right then? Seems like it'd make life a lot easier for those customers, like me, who have procrastinated the day of their ordering textbooks. I'm not feeling it today at work, if you know what I mean.

On a unrelated note, if I ever do something deplorable to you (and know me long enough and I will), here is what you need to do to inflict the most pain on me in return: when I own up to the despicable act (or carry it out), just get really unemotional and silent. This will tear me apart. Just file that away for later, I suppose.