The Squeaky Wheel...

I walked out of my bedroom this morning and found my entire apartment redolent with the scent of flowers. What a nice way to wake up. I went over to smell them and Fuzz stopped scrambling on his wheel to blink at me with those beady eyes.

Here’s another entry in the catalog of “only in my life.” Listening to ManCow on the way to school this morning (the undisputable source for the ultimate in accurate news briefs and traditional wisdom), I learned that, based on a combination of factors (including but not limited to proximity to holidays, length of the day, weather, etc.), January 24 is the single most depressing day of the year. Not the day after Christmas, not the dead of March, this day. Apparently many a psychiatrist has expended a handsome amount of research funds to establish this. Typical. (Nothing happening in Disney History today.)

It’s about 45 and sunny, but walking down the sidewalk is like attempting to enter Dorothy’s tornado. It’s one of those vehement afternoons that will twirl hair into tight spirals and tear books from the gloved hands of unsuspecting students. Every once in a while a book will soar into the air of its own volition in a flurry of sputtering pages, instigating the panicked scurry of its previous holder down the sidewalk in a huff of frustration.

I memorized the Preamble to the Constitution today. I'm waiting with baited breath for the opportunity to present itself and enable me to spew it at some hapless victim. The time will come.

I received (happily!!) two games for my PDA for Christmas, and recently installed Scrabble and Monopoly. After playing Scrabble a handful of times (and losing spectacularly against the computer in every instance), the program locked me out and demanded that I insert the “registration code” that allegedly came packaged with the game. An inspection of the package and instructions revealed no such code, but the game manufacturer’s website stated that the number came printed on that dinky little “Register Your Product!” postcard that everyone paws over and promptly discards upon opening a product. This seemed highly ridiculous, so I ferreted out the customer service contact e-mail address and, after twice contesting their allegation that I had purchased pirated software and was attempting to use a product illegally obtained, they finally caved in and e-mailed me new activation numbers this morning. I dazzled them with my irritating perseverance and they caved. I think I’m getting better at this complain-effectively-to-get-what-you-want thing.