I could've been working solely on Editor Buffer since 6:30pm, but I haven't been. I finished reading a book, Doris Lessing's Ben in the World, that would have been really disturbing had I read—rather than skimmed— it. I tend to read quickly and a bit superficially when reading pleasure novels. It's partly because (cliché alert!) I really can't wait to find out what happens next, but mostly because I feel this devilish delight for allowing myself time to read for fun.

Then I wandered next door and got roped into mending Alan's (well, technically Collin's) seat cushion despite a subversive comment that he should just duct tape his seat cushion if he was too lazy to sew it. I even offered to duct tape it for him. Said offer was rewarded by the admonition that I'd never get married if I were I butch-ass girl walking around and duct taping everything. I got a kick out of that one. Did you?

Then, I think, I came back here and had some pretty good conversation with my roommates. We're almost never all in the room at the same time, which interprets nicely in terms of getting solo working time... but it's really cool when we are, too. I'm so glad that NUSIP (one of whose functions is to dorm and roommate incoming freshmen—and, yes, to address preceding lexical ambiguities, those were used as nouns—oh no, here comes seeping in!) was nice to me. Hee, I hope they don't read this and smirk because they actually think I'm this annoying nutcase who causes this ruckus every morning because she can't gracefully climb down from bed.

Then I threaded two of the paper cranes I'd made before break with the intention of hanging them up on our ceiling, using that same thread that had resuscitated the seat cushion. Then, I realized that, ever since we moved one of the dressers to the inside room, I can no longer reach our higher-than-usual ceiling from our remaining furniture. That unexecuted intention will probably be hanging around forever. Those ninety-seven other damn cranes will probably lie in their box til then, too.

In between all of that, I was tweaking around with stage one of my program. I think it's actually running, and with nary a desperate-nausea-in-stomach that signifies a mental dead end. I feel really good about this one—just as with Wordz/Hangman from last quarter. We'll see how this pans out at 4:29 pm tomorrow afternoon. I think I always manage to delay submission of my programs to the very last quarter-hour. Why doesn't English have some words for more specific blocks of time between minutes and hours, just as fortnight falls somewhere between weeks and months? Or, if it does, please email me and tell me what they are, cause that "quarter-hour" sure felt weird to type.

So I've come up with this theory to explain my literally last-minute submissions: Work is like a gas; it expands to fill whatever volume (time) it is allotted. Hence, I don't feel too bad about having spent another half-hour on this update—the volume/time for the program will just compress some more. Still, back to the grind!