I think I’m in love with grade curves.
Instead of freaking out about a test I can’t retake, I can accept my grade and eat my sweet onion potato chips in peace. I can gallivant about Iowa City without a bad grade’s haunting. I can watch Sparticus without cringing at the thought of another exam in a month (except I can’t really watch Sparticus because it’s too violent for me. Zach and James were kind of annoyed because I hid behind a pillow the whole time, but whatever—it’s my choice if I want to watch manslaughter).
I also lost my prox card—a little white card that allows access to the building—and will most likely replace it, which is $20-30 to the Ubill, but it’s fine. I needed a new one anyway (the old one looked kind of gross—it was torn and the duct tape Zach used to attach it to the key chain stained it gray).
I’m also exiled from my room (temporarily) because of an infestation. In fact, I’m typing this on Alyssa and Becky’s new shag rug because I’m too frightened to sit at my desk. Evidently, plants don’t crumple and brown when they’re left alone for long periods of time. Bugs need homes too, and a dead plant is the perfect place to settle down.
“This would be cool if it weren’t so disturbing.” Zach looked at the cobwebs on the orchid. He pulled away and then moved closer to the dead flower. “OH MY GOD, YOU HAVE AN INFESTATION.”
“I don’t want to deal with it!” I moved from the plant. “I DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH IT.”
“THEY’RE LIKE WEIRD SPIDERS OR SOMETHING.”
“I DON’T CARE.”
“You have an infestation!” He couldn’t stop laughing. I pulled him away from the infested plants. “You have to look at it!”
“I don’t want to deal with it!”
“You have to deal with it!”
“YOU DEAL WITH IT.”
“NO.”
Zach proceeded to tell Jaime (girl with long brown hair who writes plot-driven stories about deities) and Autumn (girl with curly reddish hair who writes short poems about virgins) about the weird red spider-things residing in my plants.
“You need to fill out a maintenance request,” said Autumn.
“How long does it take them to get back to you?”
“Maybe later today or early tomorrow,” said Jaime.
“Will it smell when they’re done?”
“No.”
“Leave the windows open,” said Zach. “They’re going to nuke your room.”
I don’t think he knew I was glaring at him, but I was.
Anyway, I’m forced out of my room, and you know what? Being a nomad isn’t as fun as it seems. Some people like to go where the wind takes them. Some people—not me. I want my non-infested room with my non-infested plants and my non-infested telephone. I didn’t invite these guests, so I want them out. Now.
I don’t understand why my room is horribly infested with spider-things. I don’t mean to sound like angsty teen, but spider-things are NOT my thing. Alyssa wants to quote Ron Weasley, and express her disdain for eight-legged creatures of EVIL, and I can’t help but agree.