Eight, what is it?

Eight, what is it? Ah, it’s Monday, it’s 8:43 pm right now. It’s the 27th of August, two-thousand-and-one. [Clear throat] I’ve had a…not-so-pleasant day. I wouldn’t say it was one of the worst days of my life, even though I thought that many times during the day.

I just, ah, felt kind of overwhelmed in my classes throughout the day. Didn’t have anything to offer. [clear throat] And then, ah, I had a break from 12:30 to one. And, y/k, I was hungry. I didn’t have any food. I didn’t want to eat on campus. And what I decided was that I was gonna run ta Bread Co., the Bread Co. on the Loop? So I did. Had a half an hour. And, ah, and I made it. It was close. I got my receipt at about 12:38, and I got back to campus at about 12:54. Parked. The parking is atrocious there. It’s a mob, it’s a joke. It’s an insult. It’s un-fucking-believable and, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I haven’t found a good option. I’m workin on my second Michelob Lite here. It’s good. Shower’s runnin. I got some laundry to do tonight. I was hopin to do it this evening, earlier. I’ll get to that.

Parking sucks. I parked my car at 12:54 on Brookings. [clear throat] Went to class. American—early American Lit. A bunch of grad students in there talkin their blah-blah-blahh! blah-blah-blahh! And, ah, I didn’t have anything to offer. Went to psych. Reading quiz: mm, didn’t go as smoothly as I would’ve liked. And I didn’t have much to offer in the discussion there because the discussion was CRAP! it sucked! It wasn’t even about anything that we FUCKIN read about. It was just some bullshit. I mean, we might as well have been talkin about, like, fuckin AL batting leaders.

And I did a couple things the teacher probably picked up on. He’s a social psychologist. I ran into him in the hall, before class. He asked me, he was like, “Hey, John, how’s it goin?” And I wasn’t like, “Hey, professor, what’s up?” I was like, “Do you know if there’s a vending machine around?” Cause I was so fucking thirsty cause I had eaten One Half of my Turkey Sierra sandwich from fuckin Bread Co. and I also had a tuna sandwich fuckin sitting there in my bag, since 12:45, which I didn’t get around to eating until like four-a-fucking clock.

And then, after class, he was erasing the board. I had put my bookbag behind me—I was in a terrible position in the class—cause I got there fuckin late. I didn’t get there late, but I got there late relative to the other students. And he was standing on one of the straps as he was erasing the board—it should be noted that he had to kind of stand around my bookbag as he wrote on the board during class—and, ah, I tried to yank the bag up—I didn’t see that he was standing on the strap —uggh—ahh!—unbelievable. So I’m

like, goddam, it’s nice to be done with class today. It’s four o’clock, I’m gonna go home, I was thinkin about takin some bong hits [sniff], takin a bath, and-ah, I realized that I didn’t have my keys. Thought they were lost. So, what do I do? I check my bag. Thoroughly. Not in there. Not in any of my pockets; I check all those. Probably about five times. So I’m like, “Shit! I musta fuckin’ left ’em in one-a my classes.” [tongue cluck] Went to Early American Lit classroom—there was a class in there. [tongue sound again] Went to the English office, asked around—”mmm, no, no keys turned in, I’m sorry.” “Aw, no problem, it’s alright.” [The sound is made by putting tip of tongue behind top front teeth and sucking in briefly]

Continuing to retrace my steps, I go to the psychology classroom. Nothing going on in there, thankfully. And I don’t, I don’t see my keys, though. Thought it was possible that I left them in there. I had done some leaning back in my chair. Not there. Asked the psychology office. “Didn’t see any, you might want to check, ah, office of student activities, or security.” So I’m like, “Well….” I walk outside. Where could my keys possibly be? I can’t go to the English classroom because most likely the class in there was still going on. So, I decide to check security because anyway I need to go over to the South Forty (which is where security’s located)—to get this book, this binded book, from the campus copiers for another class for tomorrow for homework that I have yet to do.

So, it’s hot. What I actually do is, I walk back to my car. Because it occurs to me, after I’ve emptied the entire contents of my bookbag, and checked my pockets five more times, that it’s possible that I fuckin’ left my keys in my car. I’ve been out there once, mind you, when I walked out the very first time, in order ta go home. My keys, indeed, are on the passenger seat. So, what options now?

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