Lots of Monkeys

I think I just had a nightmare about high school english. I’m back in San Diego, but oddly, my high school is coed and populated by a mix of my current friends and the people I knew in grade school. We’re all walking to Mr. Adam’s Honors English class. When we get there, here’s what’s going on:

• Somehow, I’m late, despite having walked there with everyone else.
• There is a vocab test and a writing exam I’m not ready for and know nothing about.
• A note passed on a previously graded assignment says to expect a low final grade since I hadn’t turned in any other homework.
• No matter which desk I got into, it isn’t mine.
• Even the “stupid” kids look like they are writing furiously.

So now I’m wide awake.

Windspeed is something you should consider when trying to jump rope on the top of a nine story building.

Jiggety-Jog.

Well, my PowerBook G4 is back from the shop with a brand new hard drive. More RAM, too, although I did that at home. Still feels hot, but then again, it always has. Still, it’s working and it’ll tide me over until I feel the need to get a new one. Now comes the arduous task of putting everything back on.

So far the only app on there is Delicious Library, because it’s fun and I could test bluetooth at the same time. Of course now, it’s version 1.6.3. When you’re scanning things in, it speaks the name of the item you scan in, if it’s successful. Makes it a lot of fun, and is good feedback for when the laptop is across the room and you’re scanning at the bookshelves.

Plus, when you scan anything with the word “Star Wars” in it, it waits ten seconds and then says, “I am your father. . .” in a creepy whisper.

Not bad for a three year old laptop.

That’s what? Twenty, in laptop years?

The Battlestar Galactica be good television fer sure. I be catchin up ta season two point five at full sail.

The engine turned over, which was enough for me. Once again, we had cheated the one in one hundred-twenty-thousand chance of the hydrogen gas igniting from a spark from the jumper cables and blowing up the battery. Now the fun part began. Driving point six miles to the parking garage with a shaky transmission, a dead battery, an expired registration, and no insurance.

The day was clear and warm. Good weather for driving, but the inside of the car was hot. Didn’t help that I couldn’t open the passenger side window. Damn electrics. I read the odometer. One hundred ninety five thousand eighty-three miles. It really wasn’t a lot of miles for a twenty-one year old car. Then again, the odometer was broken when I took posession of it. Who knew how long it was broken before then.

The car had been laying in the sun for about two months, and the air inside was stale.

We got going down Massachusetts Avenue, taking the back route to avoid traffic just in case the car died on the way. I thought if it did die, hopefully it would be once we passed Tenleytown, and then I could coast the car downhill the rest of the way.

Then, before reaching Albemarle, a noise I didn’t recognize. A small whir and a whine like that of an electric car. I ignored it and pushed on past Tenleytown, taking a moment to accelerate past a bicyclist when it was safe.

At the moment, the car is back in the garage, safe from tree branches, the elements, unsavory elements, and ticketing, where I can forget about it for another two or three years.

Yes I know. Harrowing.