I start classes on Tuesday. That means I've been spending the past few days trying to get everything organized and occasionally lapsing into ridiculous panic over the possibility that I have forgotten some Really Important Thing that will prevent me from attending university.
The money is sorted out, at least. I think. There appears to be only one person in Cardiff University's finance department who understands the procedure involved with U.S. student loans. And there appears to be more than one American attending Cardiff, because that guy is always busy. That leaves me dealing with people who don't really have a clue. But at least they are polite about it.
ME: "So everything's sorted? I can enroll on Tuesday?"
POLITE BUT IGNORANT PERSON: "Yes. Well, I should think so."
ME: "And the remainder of the loan money -- when will I get that? I need it to pay rent."
PBIP: "Oh, uhm. I should think it would take at least 10 days. Call back then."
Lately, I've noticed a bad habit on my part of telling stories that have no real point. At the end of them, I will look at the person I'm speaking to and read on their face complete and absolute boredom. To that end, I have taken to saying this a lot: "That was a good story, wasn't it? I think I'll write that one down and save it for my children."
Last night I dreamt that Reese Witherspoon was trying to steal me away from the child bride. She made a pretty convincing case, being all touch-feely and playing to my ego -- she laughed at my jokes and told me I was a good writer*. But in the end I said no. I turned down Reese Witherspoon for my wife.
Admittedly, it was only in my head, but I still don't think Rachel is giving me the credit I deserve. When I told her about my dream, she only commented that it was hilarious that I fantasize about beautiful women not so much having sex with me, but saying nice things.
In the interest of full disclosure, however, it should be noted that on the same night I dreamt about spurning Reese Witherspoon's advances, I also woke up in illness-induced sweats several times. For the second time in as many months, I am really, really sick. Guess how happy I am that this comes just days before I'm supposed to start on my course.
Because I am sick, there will likely be no Penhill and Sneaveweedle adventure this week. Staring at the computer screen is giving me a headache.