The Professor got no rest last night. I’m not sure why – he came to bed after 4:00 but got up again soon after. He came back to bed around 5:30, but I doubt he got much sleep since I have to get up at 6:00. He has to be at the college at 8:00, and I feel sorry for any of the kids who hit the tutoring center there first thing this morning. I suspect he’s not going to be in the best of shapes. He also teaches a late evening class tonight, which means he can’t go to bed early to catch up.
Friday the ex stopped by work with a bag full of mail. I’d been trying to catch up with him since the beginning of December, when he had told me that he’d gotten a letter from the college I’d signed up for my Latin course with. After he left I sorted through the mail he brought over, and it was mostly a bag full of junk. In fact, it was a bagful of junk that dated back as far as last September. Ads from pharmaceutical venders, Christmas catalogues, offers for new Visa cards, even a handful of “Occupent” mailings. I’ve asked him, told him, pleaded with him to just throw the junk mail out, but he won’t do it. I can’t exactly get my address changed on junk mail, after all. I don’t know if he does this to get even or if it’s just easier to toss the stuff in a bag to give to me than walk it to the trash can four feet away. Ironically, the one piece of mail I needed (the letter from the college) wasn’t in the bag. *grumble* The Professor suggested that I just call the college directly, and I guess I’ll have to. I’d like to know why they sent my mail to that address anyhow, when I clearly used my current address on the application form. I did take one course with them while I was at the old address almost seventeen years ago, and if they were too lazy to update my new address to an old file I’m going to be very unhappy with them.
Then again, I’m pretty unhappy with half the world at the moment, so one more name on the gripe list isn’t going to change anything.
Yesterday the Prof didn’t get up until after noon. I’d gotten up earlier, but had held off eating anything because he always wants a meal first thing upon rising, and I end up eating too many meals in a day if I follow my stomach and his. We had the usual discussion of where to grab a bite to eat (“Where do you want to go?” “Well I’ll figure out where to go if you tell me what you feel like eating.” “It doesn’t matter, anything is OK. Where ever you want.” “OK, let’s get pizza then.” “I don’t feel like pizza.” “OK, then where do you want to go?” “I don’t care, just anywhere but pizza.”) We ended up having a late afternoon breakfast/lunch, ran a few errands, and then came home.
He went out to the gym and returned after seven o’clock. I told him I wasn’t really hungry (it had only been a little over three hours since we ate), and he immediately started to whine that he was hungry and wanted the scallops I’d set out to thaw that morning. So I made those together with a salad and some left over cous cous for him, and then called him away from his computer when it was ready. “Where’s yours?” he asks. Well, duh, didn’t I mention that I wasn’t hungry? “If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have made you make the scallops,” he replies.
We may both speak English, but I’m not sure we interpret it the same way.