Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Some Tweaking.

I once again am being terribly unproductive today. Well, I did go to school, apply for a $2,500 bursary (fingers crossed), have lunch with Mike, plant my Cosmus and my Sweet Peas and do two loads of dishes. I'm also about to do some laundry before I go home on Friday.

I'm flying to St. John's on Friday, where my Mum and Dad are on a little trip and Dad will be in a meeting (Avian Flu? Ebola? West Nile? Scurvy? Who knows?). My sister is flying in as well, and we're going to surprise Mum, since it's been over 5 months since I've done so. Then I'm driving back to PEI with them for a very very very short visit (like, 2 nights!) and then back to the Hammer to continue writing.

This is why I feel like I've been unproductive. I'd like to have 40 pages of The Thesis (that's right -- it gets caps now) written before I go, and as it stands, I only have about 28/29. Now, I could write 10 pages in 3 days, but I'm finding myself going slow because I'm finishing up a chapter and I'm spending a lot of time on fine-tuning. This chapter's on the Authenticity of vacation on Prince Edward Island. Next, a chapter on Rejuvenation as Healing on Vacation like on Pilgrimage. Yeah.

PS: Thanks be to the gods that Prince Edward Island is such a long name -- it really sucks up a lot of space! AND I'm getting very good at typing it quickly, which is really something.

Also, I updated some things on the sidebar links. The Jon Stewart address had changed, and I wanted to add a couple of things. Ta da.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

Nickel and Dimeing Me To Death.

For those of you who don’t know about my dedication, I am in the middle of an ongoing cribbage throwdown with my arch-nemesis, Michael “The Skunk” Edmonds.

We play for a nickel a hole and a dime a hole when skunked. There are 30 holes to the skunk line, so when one is skunked, it’s automatically a loss of $3.

I have a knack for being skunked.

Now, to clarify, I don’t lose much more often than The Skunk, but when I lose, I do it in style.

Anyhow, last night we played a few games and I was doing well, breaking even or winning a little. Then we got on the beer.

I still wasn’t doing too poorly. Now, I should admit, I have recently hit the $50 mark on the ledger. I owe the man over $50 in crib debt. It’s not that bad – don’t gasp. It’s a very slow and unsteady progression.

I comfort myself by thinking about the stock market. I know. It’s the most boring thing ever, right? Not really – it’s a very useful illustrative tool. See, the market always goes up. Overall. There are ebbs and flows, dips and peaks, but in the long run, it’s going up in value. The trick is not to panic in the flows and dips. I like to think of my cribbage performance as a temporary dip in the market and I'm calmly waiting for the ebbs and peaks.

In other cribbage news, I have learned to do that two-thumbed flippity flippy flip shuffle. I don’t know how to describe it other than with onomatopoeia, but I’m sure you know what I mean. Flippity-bend-shhoook.

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Ripped-off Follow-up Review.

Once again, I'm going to rip off a quote from a blog to which Melanie directed me. The comics are great, and the reviews underneath are fun, however poorly written.

This guy wrote something that is so astute in the grand scape of Star Wars, I really hope it's true.

"Now before you start moaning and groaning – yeah, there’s some crap ass dialogue. And some crap ass performances. But honestly, you were sort of expecting that too, right? There are some scenes in this where Hayden Christensen is so unconvincing that I couldn’t decide if he was a bad actor, or a brilliant mimic of Jake [Lloyd's] performance as the same [character] in episode one. Because if he was going for a carbon copy… well say hello to Oscar."

Yes, the dialogue is weak, but is this the only thing we can talk about? Man! This is an incredibly epic story with huge overarching themes of love, power, hate and mindfulness. So the dialogue is bad. They can't all the American Beauty, people. And besides, it takes place a very long time ago. Perhaps that's how people really spoke. And, um... perhaps "laserbrain" was a really hurtful thing to call someone...

Friday, May 27, 2005

Execute Order 66!

“I just ate most of a sleeve of graham crackers with my tea and I have no urge to masturbate! These things really work!”

This is why reading other people’s blogs is fun. It’s like listening in on someone else’s conversation. I didn’t investigate the above quote in unknown person’s blog, but hope to someday use it as my own.

I have done jack all day. He said thanks.

Ok, for real, I didn’t do one lick of work all day. (No – I won’t. It’s too easy…) I woke up abnormally early (8am) and checked my email to find a note from a post-drinking et al Mike wanting to go for breakfast, so we walked up to some family restaurant by DQ for a little meal. We had the usual titillating conversation, and then I came home and tried to sleep.

Last night I went to see What the Bleep Do We Know at Reuben’s place. It was ok, somewhat flawed, but admirable in intention. It sparked some good debate. I found myself there with Reubens, an ABD PhD student; Elona Something-or-Other, a Children’s Librarian; Dr. Donna Seamone, who was the prof I TAed for this semester with whom I get along better and better all the time; and the legendary Dr. Graeme McQueen, professor emeritus of Buddhology and renowned for being a Silver Fox. He was a Silver Fox. Gerrrow.

Whatever. All that is news is rubbish compared to the news that has been distracting me for over 24 hours.

I saw Revenge of the Sith. Oh my.

I was never a Star Wars fan. I mean, I liked the movies, I knew the characters, and I knew the cultural significance, but I never really paid attention to the politics and intrigue. I just concentrated on things like: that guy bad, that guy good, they fight, and I root for good guy.

It’s all so much more complicated. Mike gave me the tutorial yesterday and now I am learned in the ways of the Force. Um, and the Republic for which it stands.

I think the best part was gaining some sympathy for Vader. It reminds me of “Paradise Lost.” In that, I think it’s in books one and two that we are meant to feel sorry for Satan, which is great, because of course we’re only meant to feel fear and hate for the embodiment of evil. This is all Darth Vader was for Episodes Four, Five, and Six – pure evil.

Cue the Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil.”

Overall, Episode Three is incredibly sad. Sad for Anakin, profoundly sad for Kenobi, sad for Padmé, and sad for poor old Yoda. Oh, and super sad for the ass-kickingest Jedi ever, Mace Windu.

Mike and I went with my ex-classmate Holly and her life-partner John. This was especially good because the night before we went to their place and watched Episodes One and Two. They, too, are learned in the Force.

I want a light sabre.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Totally Fly.

Watching Back to the Future is such a trippy experience. It’s 20 years old, so I was 6 when it came out, but, typical of my unexplainable 80s culture void, I don’t think I saw it. I think the strangest thing to realise is that it’s 20 years old. Something that’s somewhat contemporary with my youth is 20 years old.

It makes me think: if we were to travel back 30 years in time today, it would have been 1975. Would it be such a culture shock for us to live in the 70s for a week as it was for Marty McFly to live in the 50s coming from the 80s? Some things would be strange – AIDS and HIV would be unknown, roller skating would not be retro cool, but just cool, and Elton John would be a womanizing man-about-town.

Anyhow, I’d forgotten the plot details to Back to the Future, so I thrilled for every twist. Michael J. Fox was dreamy. I can say with confidence that it I was my age when this movie came out, I’d have a crush on him in the same genre of my current Zach Braff crush.

Michael J. Fox guest starred on Scrubs. Coincidence? Yes.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Zach Braff Gives Me a Boner.

I’m so starved for TV. Well, not really. I only miss a few shows. NOT Alias (or has it been cancelled already?), not anything with The Donald, and not any ET-style shite shovellers (“Stay tuned for what Alicia Silverstone thinks of the NHL strike!”).

I miss: Conan O’Brien (especially here in EST), Jon Stewart, Arrested Development, and What Not To Wear.

Lately, I’ve been spending my time downloading episodes of Scrubs. I mean… working diligently on my thesis! Yeah… OK, well, between stretches of academic genius, I pay attention to downloading Scrubs. It’s filling in the blanks TV has left in my life. Sure, my PC is close to spontaneously combusting for lack of space, but whatever.

The real news is, I’ve got a big girl crush on Zach Braff. That means it doesn’t just involve me daydreaming about us skipping hand-in-hand through a meadow, but it’s founded on respect. He’s cool. Huh… “Let Go” from the “Garden State” soundtrack just came up on my mix… funny. Zach won a Grammy for this soundtrack, you know… I know, I know… a Grammy is the award voted most likely to be found on any given Saturday’s garage sale rotation, but still… it’s pretty neat.

I liked “Garden State.” Well, I liked the way it was directed. The characters bugged me. Well, Peter Sarsgaard and Natalie Portman’s characters bugged me. The story was OK, but I really did like the way it was directed.

Friday, May 20, 2005

Spare Me.

I want to respond to Laura's response to my last post. I am not only saddened by the bullshit reaction to Stronach's swap, the bullshit headlines here in Upper Canada ("Blonde Bombshell"), and the defensive statements from some of the Conservatives (like Tony Abbott an MLA from Alberta who called her a "political harlot" -- classy), but the opportunist way that Paul Mackay appeared on CBC tv and .ca with a whipped hangdog reaction.

Bless him if it was genuine, really, because it must have been quite a blow. I have to remember, though, that he is a politician and he would know how to spin this kind of thing by making her look bad.

I wonder if I'm subconsciously defending her because she has been shat on so much this week, and even though I'm no Liberal, I'd take the first train out of Harperville, too. I sympathize with her, really, even if the swap doesn't make her look very good. Still, she never seemed all that married to the Conservatives, anyway.

Go.

Something Completely Different.

I'm going to briefly discuss politics -- something I don't usually do.

I was shocked and tacitly chuffed for Belinda Stronach and her floor-crossing shocker earlier this week.

I was saddened by the official reaction from the floor. Question Period is an embarrassment for a meeting of minds who are meant to civilly represent civil Canadians, and it's lately been descending into a WWE arena. I know emotions and stress levels are running on overload these days, but why the yelling? Where is the Speaker? Where are Robert's Rules of Order? If the UPEISU can use Robert's Rules, surely the House of Commons can.

I was pleased that the votes went through tonight for two reasons. First, the budget and its ammendment, Bill C-48 seem, overall, good and sound, and I like the boost to social programs and a delay in the corporate tax cut. Second, I really didn't want to go to the polls. I'd have to register in Hamilton and bone up on the issues. I don't vote by party lines, so it depends on the MP and the platforms of the day.

AND, even though it seems the Sponsorship Scandal is a total mess, I don't like the way Stephen Harper has descended upon it like a vulture on carrion. He seems shifty and opportunist. Is it the beady eyes and hair helmet? I hope I'm not that shallow. I think it's more the just the whole righty-righty-right-right Conservative attitude that makes me think "Bush's America North."

Yay for letting the government the country elected stay in power. That's democracy.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Mouse Smorgasbord.

Jeremy is a nutjob.

He thinks we should change the cheese in the mousetraps every 3-4 days so the mice will be enticed to nibble.

He has put cartoonishly-large pieces of cheese on the triggers of the traps, because he seems to think the mouse will only die if it is full of a critical amount of dairy.

I just want them to die. He doesn’t seem to understand that they are mice and they will be attracted to anything that smells edible, not the sheer quantity of it. They are not Super Size generation mice.

He was pestering me so much about the pests, I’ve been really picking on him today. It’s fun and my own little way of getting my own back. He just told me he was “appalled” because of something I said his Dad did for/to me. This is totally within my rights, especially since he thinks he wins all of our arguments by yelling, “I boinked your Mom!” and running away.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Multi-Post Marathon.

I haven’t posted in a week now, and a lot’s happened, so I’m going to go rapid fire with a whole whack of subjects.

The Snowballing Thesis.

The writing was surprisingly easy. I mean, the training myself to sit still for more than half and hour and write more than a paragraph was a little difficult, but once I got going, the ideas were building heft and speed until I was just jotting them down in point form to keep from forgetting them. Earlier, I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to reach the 60-page minimum, but now I should be fine.

I’m working on a chapter on authenticity, which is a huge topic in anthropology and especially the anthropology of tourism. I think it might be my biggest chapter since I don’t feel halfway done at 15 pages. Yay!

My First Draft Meeting.

Everything was good. I brought Ellen (my advisor) 15 pages of writing. She seemed reasonable when I told her a lot of the subjects were not finished, and not to judge them as if they were. She’s going away to do some fieldwork in the South of France, or, as we snooty anthropologists say, “She’s going into the field.” Hm.

Hickory Dickory Fuck.

So, yeah – I was writing the thesis on Thursday night, working on a great topic (anthropologists are just snobby tourists) and I saw and heard movement to my right. Something ran along the floor of my closet door and behind my CPU! I screamed, very loudly, and left my room to get a flashlight to look behind my computer. I thought it was the biggest Mother Effing house centipede I’d ever seen. It ran that fast, anyway. Unfortunately, me being blind, the thing was just a huge scuttling blur in my peripheral blind spot.

I shone my flashlight behind my computer expecting a gorgon centipede to look back at me, but no – there was no centipede. It was a mouse. A mouse. It was a mouse.

Jesus H. Christ.

I stood in my doorway, incredulous. “There’s a mouse in my room.” I had to repeat that phrase in my head like a daily affirmation, trying to convince myself it was true. See I’d never seen a live mouse. I mean, a free one that wasn’t a pet or food. I’d seen three dead mice in my days in Hamilton, but I’d only ever seen signs of the mice and not face-to-face.

I was actually pissed because I was on a roll with the writing, too.

Now, Mike was meant to come over to proofread my work after be had a drink with his classmates after his nightclass, but he had not arrived yet, so I was left watching a shadow move behind my file rack and stack of magazines. I called and left a message at Mike’s house in case he stood me up and begged him to come down.

Then I called my next-door neighbour and classmate, Lily, to see if she had any mousetraps. She didn’t, but unhelpfully suggested I rig up some sort of stick-and-box trap with a hunk of cheese for bait, a la the coyote and roadrunner. Great. While I was talking to her, I climbed on my bed to see if I could see the stupid varmint from above and it shot out from under my bed to under my chest of drawers. I think I ruptured Lily’s eardrum because I screamed really loud. Anyhow, no help there at all.

I called my super trying to solicit mousetraps as well, and he pretty much said NO and went back to bed.

Then I called my Mum. She was awake, of course. I didn’t really know what talking to her could do to help, but it calmed me down quite a bit. She’s great. She even made me laugh at the whole stupid situation.

I stood in my doorway, knitting my brow and gnashing my teeth and so on, and Mike finally arrived. I was really relieved, even though I didn’t really expect him to do much. Mike doesn’t come across as much of a knight in shining armour. I was surprised and pleased, though – he went to work pulling furniture out from the walls. (All after he tucked his pants into his socks. “I’ve heard stories,” quoth he.) I don't know what he was planning to do when he found the brazen beast, but I pictured him suddenly getting uncharacteristically brutal.

He couldn’t find the bleedin’ thing, so I stood on my computer chair, emailed the draft to myself, grabbed my pjs and informed the man that I was staying at his place for the night.

London Calling.

On Friday, I had that meeting with my advisor at 1:30, and had to pick up a rental car at noon.

Mike had some sort of aptitude test to write for a job he had applied for, and there were only spots left in London, so off we went. I read and napped and wandered around a very beautiful city for the day. It was raining, but it just made the campus all the greener. There were a lot of flowering trees and immaculately-groomed lawns. All the buildings were great and intelligent-looking and most importantly, not in Hamilton.

When we got back I went to IKEA to get some good cheap stinky candles and a new lamp. Then we found an M&M Meat Shop and I got some veg burgers and steak medallions (to keep ‘em guessing), Winners for a new set of summer sheets, and a garden centre for a ridiculously large bag of topsoil for my ridiculously large flowerbox. I’ve started some Cosmos and I’ll put some Sweetpeas in as well. I’ll plant those soon.

On Sunday the car went back (which made me sad) and it was only $72 for the two days (which made me happy).

Can of Worms.

So still no dead mice. That first night I slept back here, I was not well. I didn’t want to hear the snap! of a trap, so I slept with two pillows over my head. Turns out I’m not into that!

Ivan, the scary Russian super, came by to see where the thing was and to tell me he’d called pest control. I said something like, “oh, it was terrible and scary and it creeped me out!” and he brushed the comment off and said, “Why you scared? You big girl!” and he gave me one of those muscle-man poses. I said, “I’m still a person!” and got sour.

This opens a can of worms for me. I think it brought something to a head. I’m so sick of people assuming that because I’m tall and, well, we’ll say – curvy, I’m not a real woman. Like I don’t have feelings and I’m inherently masculine because I’m so tall. So I’m not a fainting daisy of a woman. I’d still like to be comforted and shown a little affection. I don’t need my hand held to get through everyday life, but it would be nice if someone thought I did and offered it to me every once in a while. I see almost all my small, dainty girlfriends and they aren’t going to bed by themselves. While I take up a little bit more room in my queen bed, there’s still plenty left for someone else.

Ok, I’m done my “I’m Lonely” rant for the month.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

In The Darkness Bind Them.

Updating:
I could only stay at the VE Memorial for half an hour. I was alone, so I felt like a knob dabbing at my tears all by myself. That, and the insides of my cheeks were getting sore. I have made a habit of biting my cheeks to keep from breaking down. Try it - it's useful. There was a great pipe band that played, and then a cadet band. I like military bands, but I really like pipe bands. They’re very patriotic and historical, but it also reminds me of the East Coast, so I get homesick, too.

Yesterday I went to school to transcribe more interviews (I did 4!), and got home much later than I had hoped, so I talked to Lisa, watched a movie and went to bed before midnight. So, now I’m up and ready to go, and I think I’m just going to stay home today and write. I’d like to have 15 pages to hand in to my advisor on Thursday, so I still need to produce 10 pages. This isn’t all that hard – I’ve written more in less time. I do have to make sure it’s good, I guess. Bah.

One of my classmates told me to remember – it’s just an MA thesis. It’s not the gospel. Yeah. I’m not trying to get this thing published, I just want to graduate.

Huzzah for setting the bar low!

Oh, and on another topic, the magnolias in Hamilton look just beautiful. All the pinks and whites are really in full bloom right now and it helps me not be so depressed about being trapped here.

To illustrate why Hamilton gets me down sometimes, I’ll tell you about yesterday. I took a different bus to school in the morning. It drove considerably more South than my normal bus, which is South of the downtown & Mordor (the steel mills). I looked North towards the city and noticed something queer about the sky.

Imagine the sky over Hamilton was a 2-layer cake. The top layer was clear blue, and then there was a discernable line where the second layer started. That layer was a grey/greeny/blue wall of smog. It was like mixing oil and water. The smog was obviously heavier and had settled over the city. Sure enough, there had been a smog advisory issued for the GTA. Happily, McMaster is a little out of town, so I didn’t have to smell/taste the distinct exhaust/sulphur Hamilton smog. Joy.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

Happy Mother's/ VE Day!

I know Mum never reads this blog -- I'm not sure she knows it exists -- but I must say that I'm so freakin' GD lucky to have my Mum. She's so awesome and I love her very much. I keep lucking out on stuff - I'm healthy, I'm Canadian, I've got a sense of humour... I'd trade it all in to be a sickly Belarussian dullard if I didn't have to swap my Mum. She's a little sad this weekend because it's the three-year anniversary of burying her Mum. As I get older, I understand more and more how heartbreaking that is/is going to be. This is the point where I well up with tears. I think it's going to be a day of me welling up.

On to more everyday stuff:

Jeremy’s gone home for a week/week-and-a-half, and I miss him desperately. Why? Because he seemed to be keeping the bugs away.

Not 15 minutes ago, I had to kill the second biggest spider I’ve ever had to dispatch. I tried to kill Rivers (last summer’s resident spider) in the same way I killed this guy – by dropping a boot on him. I was unsuccessful killing Rivers – Jem eventually did it, but today, using one of Jeremy’s disgusting army boots, I killed the hell out of this one. I think since it was an older spider, it couldn’t move so fast.

Just to give you an idea of how big it was: it was dragging a dust bunny with it. God. It gives me the jibblies just thinking about it. And I don’t know where it got all the dust, because everyone knows I keep my apartment spotless. =cough=

Today I’m continuing with yesterday’s work of writing my thesis. I’m actually producing pages now. It’s not bad, either, I think. I’ll keep you posted.

For breakfast, I’m eating some terrible woody American strawberries that I bought at the market yesterday. Oh, for some Balderston berries.

Before I start work today, though, I’m going to City Hall for the Memorial Service for the 60th anniversary of VE Day. I’ve spent the morning weeping with pride. The Sunday Edition on CBC Radio One with Michael Enright is remembering the events for Canadians. I am ashamed at how little I know about the role Canadians played in the end of the Second World War.

There are also a lot of celebrations in Holland today. Those Dutch are still so thankful for what Canada meant to them in the War. Did you know that the Princess of the Netherlands and her children were in exile in Canada during the war? If you knew that, did you know that when she was about to give birth to her third child, Ottawa quickly passed a law temporarily declaring her hospital room extraterritorial so the child could be officially born in Holland? So cool! No wonder every spring Ottawa is alive with over 100,000 tulip bulbs as a thank-you from Holland.

Anyhow, that was a little piece of Canadian pride for you readers today on the anniversary of Victory in Europe.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Ferris Bueller, You're My Hero.

Yesterday I had my Spring committee meeting with my advisor and my second reader. It’s more formal than the other little ones I’m supposed to be having every once in a while. My advisor has to file a report to Grad Affairs to let them know I’m on track.

Anyhow, at one point during the meeting I fell into a catatonic state. At least, that is what I think happened. I can’t really remember what transpired, because when I came to, I found myself saying I’d have a draft of a chapter for my advisor for next Thursday. Um, yeah. I guess this is about the right time to be doing this. Here’s my plan of action:

By the end of June: Entire thesis written in a draft (and it is draft).
July: for revisions, or, as I prefer to call it, perfections.
August: studying the thesis for defence at the end of the month.

This allows some leeway at the end of the project if something falls through, but it still puts a lot of pressure on in the next couple of months. It’s more than a page a day a this point. That’s not that big a deal, if you think about it, but we must all keep in mind that I enjoy, nay, treasure being lazy, and will most likely have to drag myself to work every day.

Jeremy’s driving home this weekend. He asked me if I wanted to go with him, but I really can’t if I have to get this GD draft in. And no, Marilyn, this is not some sort of elaborate lie to get you to think I’m not coming home when I really am. (Not that this is an issue – my sister never reads my blog.)

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Ne Souriez Pas, Nous N'Avons Pas Les Souris.

Yeah, I'm polite, that's right.

So the mouse is dead. Jem said he heard the trap go off at 2am. It didn’t hold up too well under the trap’s hinge, i.e., “Clean-up on aisle four!”

We have to get more traps because there are never single mice. They come in even numbers. Lucky mice.

Monday, May 02, 2005

Oh, Snap!

IKEA has great cheap potent scented candles that I like. I like them all the more because when they’re all burned up, I clean out the wax residue and we have a smart new tumbler for all my rum & coke drinking friends (read: me).

This morning I was cleaning one of these empty candle glasses in my usual way: running it under boiling water to soften the wax, thereby making it easier to wipe away. When I was finished, I let the waxy glass sit in the sink and Jeremy went to the sink to rinse his cereal bowl.

He yelled, “Oh my God!” and jumped back six feet from the counter. I thought I had scalded the poor guy by not letting the hot water run cool before I shut it off (an old pet peeve of my sister’s which I still think is somewhat unreasonable, but it’s scarred me forever nonetheless).

I was carving a rotisserie chicken at the time, and I wielded the knife like a weapon. I fair screamed, “What’s wrong?”

“A mouse! I just saw a mouse! There was a mouse there on the counter!”

W. T. F.

There was a mouse feasting on a peanut on my counter, as I was right there, carving a chicken. Brazen bastard! When Jeremy yelled, it ran down behind our counter, which is not attached to the wall, leaving its lunch behind.

Jeremy keeps his cereals, peanuts, almonds, cookies and whatnot on top of the fridge so he doesn’t have to reach over into the cupboard every time he eats (which is often – he has to keep his blood sugar steady). Upon closer investigation, there were mouse droppings behind the boxes where he was keeping but not eating an econo-bag of salted peanuts. We looked all over, and could only find a few more droppings near the garbage bin, so we figured this mouse was a fairly new guest.

I promptly left the apartment to tell Ivan, our scary Russian superintendent. He told me we’d have to get a cat, but not a lazy Canadian cat that sleeps all day, but a tough Yugoslavian cat that’ll gobble up all the mice in sight. Seeing my desperate panic, he then said, “All joke aside, I call pest control this afternoon.”

I found the leftover mousetrap that I had brought with me from my old apartment, a.k.a. Dirt Hole, I tied a chunk of cheese to the trigger and, after I whined and shivered remembering the numb fingers from my previous mousetrap-setting experiences, Jeremy armed it.

This whole thing has left me rather jittery. I don’t like the idea of vermin in my apartment. I was only just able to train myself to sleep through the night without thinking there were spiders on me.