Ugh, ugh, ugh! The toilet in my room overflowed, requiring a visit from “The Engineer,” who is an elderly man with an Eastern European accent, and one of the cleaning crew, who was very displeased at having to clean up sewage at 10 at night. I was very sorry too – I watched in horror as the bowl filled up with water, saying impotently, “No, no, no!” – but I don’t know what I could have done about it.

Due to the noxious smell, I’m in the room across the hall, which is actually nicer and cozier than the room I was in. Having been on antibiotics for the past few days, and not sleeping well for the same, I was ill-equipped to deal with the smell, and asked to move. Unfortunately, I only have the room for this night; someone’s got it for tomorrow. I’ll have to go deal with that one tomorrow – I’m not going back to the toilet room.

Ugh, ugh, ugh. Vomitous.

Thus ends what was otherwise a pleasant day. I spent all day with Double M at the American Philosophical Society library. The APS was founded by Ben Franklin way back in the day and is “the nation’s oldest and most prestigious learned society.” Or so I gather. The library is a nice, open room with a large Oriental rug on the floor and dreadful wireless connections. You can’t bring your own materials or pens or paper in without permission, which reminds me of my old Katherine Mayo research days. Sigh. Oh, when I was young and green and a depressed college senior.

I got permission to bring in my elective reading (really, they’re not strict at all about it), and procured a spot thanks to Double M’s established presence – “we don’t let people come in off the street, but if you’re her friend…” – and probably in part due to my own harmless appearance. (Never underestimate the power of being a little Asian girl. They never suspect you.)

I managed to get most of my reading done for the week I’ll be leading class with four other students, and despaired about the boringness and the fact that I have no interest in nor anything to say about lawyers as community organizers. Nada. This paper is going to be even more of a pain to write than the paternalism (DIE! DIE!) one.
Immediately after the APS closed at 4:45, we went to see “The Up Side of Anger,” which I liked, mostly because Joan Allen is splendidly angry for most of the film, as well as acidly smart, hostile to her children and Kevin Costner, and prone to daydreaming about people’s heads blowing up in her dining room. What was the last movie you saw about an intelligent, independent, middle-aged housewife?

I came back to the room at the Divine Tracy thinking that skirts aren’t so bad. I wouldn’t mind them if someone would make a pair of stockings/tights that didn’t rip or run at the suggestion of a snag, fit perfectly, and didn’t feel like a tight band of ruinous digestion around your intestines. Oh wait. That’s why they invented pants.