Oh, Was Today the First Day of School?

I awoke early to the usually-romantic-but-not-quite-so-at-this-time sound of a torrential downpour. Is it not still summer? I've been sleeping in sweats the last two nights, which is strange, but I've been cozy and that's all that matters. So I lay awake from about 6:45 a.m. to 8 or so, refusing to get up because this is technically my last day to really sleep in -- guilt free. I did manage to go back to sleep, only to roused by my alarm clock. After, I would say, the third go-around with the snooze button, there was a knock on my door. Cornelia, concerned I was oversleeping, asked,

"Catherine, do you need to wake up now or can you keep sleeping?" I thought for a moment and then responded, "I can keep sleeping." But sleep I did not. I chilled in this position, not wanting to get up but knowing I should. And so I did. I started the coffee, chit-chatted with Cornelia for about an hour or so, and then finally began the day...with a call to Cingular.

I just got a new phone through them and, finally excited to be rid of Sprint, I anxiously awaited the opportunity to use my cell phone in my room. Unfortunately, this was not to be. It seems that this house, this wonderful house with no white walls, doesn't do the cell-phone thing. In fact, the signal is worse with this phone than it was with my Sprint phone. Luckily, the signal was the least of my worries with Sprint, so I have no regrets about the change.

Anyway, so I have this problem. I can't be inside at all and be on the phone. There are two signal bars on the display but as if I have signal-zapping powers flowing through my veins, it disappears when I pick the phone up. I wondered if it was the phone. I spoke with a couple of people with Cingular and the second person said it was a possibility. Clinging to this idea, I called up to the main Cingular store near Rockefeller Plaza on 47th and 5th.They agreed to let me try out another phone. But before I reached the store, I had to deal with stupid people meandering through the streets without regard for folks without umbrellas. As it was raining, there were umbrellas everywhere. But as I was in a hurry, I forgot mine. So you'll walk by these short fuckers who can't see more than a foot and a half in front of them, and their umbrella spokes are headed directly for your eyes. Ignorance is all that is; blatant disregard for other people. It's raining, I have no umbrella, my hair is getting messed up, and my eyes are targets. And it's lunch time. So everybody is everywhere. Finally, I reached the store with an elevated blood pressure. The wait was about 25 minutes, which allowed me to calm down. And then I saw him. Sean. The monobrowed rude bastard who things he's the hottest thing in Manhattan. I dealt with him on Saturday when I went into the store and hated that I had to see him again today. Nevertheless, I kept waiting. Dave helped me and got me another phone. It's totally ugly but I wasn't too concerned with aesthetics at this point. I wanted to get home to see if this phone had a signal. I left, dodging umbrella spokes, elbows, and meanderthals, and waited patiently for the F train, ah, the F train, with the new phone in my hand. The F train. The ride was comfortable enough. There was urine in my bladder but I had it under control. We made it through Manhattan, all the way to Jay St. And then, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are being held by station supervision. We should be moving momentarily." You've got to be kidding me. Now, I hear these announcements all the time. However, having just spent an excruciatingly, not to mention unnecessarily, painful hour+ on the F the previous evening, I was a little jittery. "Stand clear of the closing doors." Whew. We made it. On to Bergen St. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are being held here momentarily due to a police investigation." I was at a loss. I could barely express my frustration because I was so aggro. I couldn't even move my face. I just smiled and shook my head a bit. A police investigation. I sat there listening to Ben Harper, hoping to something that we'd move. "Ladies and gentlemen, due to a smoke problem at the Smith and Ninth station, we are being held here. The fire and police are there and we are being held until it is safe to proceed." I sighed. I then broke out the new phone. It's ugly but it might have some good stuff on it. If I have to keep it, then I might as well get used to it. I ended up playing an interesting game of Alien something or other. It was a bit stressful but I managed. "Ladies and gentlemen, due to a smoke problem at the Smith and Ninth station, service is being suspended indefinitely." The word "indefinitely" rang through my head like an ache. I was sitting next to a woman whose cup of tea smelled really bad. And there was a woman in front of me (I was facing her left side) whose leg kind of extended beyond her seat. Because my legs are long, my knees were touching her. I was cramped and stuck and it sucked. "It may be five or 10 minutes. Or 15." For fuck's sake. People began de-training but I remained, unable to afford a cab to my place to check the signal. Then "We're moving, we're moving. This train will proceed. This train is back in service." How dramatic. Although I was happy to finally be moving again, it wasn't that serious. I ended up getting used to the phone during this time. It had some good features. So of course, there was no signal. I got used to it for nothing. I got attached to it. But it didn't matter. I had to hop back on the F and go back to Cingular. It was now 3:40. I had to go to class still at 6. I made it up to Cingular, not paying too much attention to umbrella wielders this time, but just wanting closure to this phone debacle. Dave was very nice and he gave me my phone back after activating my voicemail and resetting the time. And I left. I went to school. Exhausted. It was nice to see the people again after a summer. The summer seemed like it dragged on and on, but seeing everyone made it seem like May was just yesterday. But it wasn't. I made it to class at 6. I thought it was 5:50. Don't let Cingular people set the time on your phones. Class was ok. I think I'm going to like it. I've got to read George Orwell's Politics and the English Language, David Foster Wallace's Tense Present, and Jim "Modernity and Its Discontents" Miller's, Is Bad Writing Necessary? for next week. I also have to write a 750-word op-ed piece. I went to dinner but didn't eat (except for the free bread) with some friends to catch up and then finally made it home. I was even able to enjoy an uneventful F train ride. Please excuse the sub-parness of the writing. It's late. It's too late. I'm going to sleep now.