![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
School stuff
Nov. 21st, 2006 12:05 amTwice now I have gone to a library to pick up a book, which the website assures me is available, only to find it was checked out before I got there. Dude. How many people in New York City could possibly be doing research on Egyptian mummy tattoos at the same time? (Don't answer that.) The internet tells me that the public libraries also have a copy, but it's only available for reference. As I have class all day tomorrow, am leaving to go home for Thanksgiving early the next morning, and won't be back until a few hours before the project is due, this is really not helpful. Maybe I'll get up early enough tomorrow to have time to read it in the library before going to class.
...yeah, I'll wait until you've all stopped laughing at the thought of me getting up early. Though I do need to visit the same section of town to buy a present for the wedding I'm going to on Sunday, so a miracle could happen.
Between this project and several other things I have going on at the moment, my room is mainly decorated in tottering stacks of books, accentuated by a carpet of journal articles. They're even taking over my bed, though granted, that's because books are fucking heavy, so I tend to drop them in the first open space available as soon as I walk through the door. I wonder what the limit is to the number of books I can have checked out at a time, because I suspect I'm going to hit it soon.
Now, if it were tottering stacks of novels, that would be normal and I would feel at home. Instead, they're all ancient, dusty volumes, bound in plain, solid colors, and I feel very much like the poor student in a story about bohemian Paris. I should be living in a garret and drinking absinthe.
...yeah, I'll wait until you've all stopped laughing at the thought of me getting up early. Though I do need to visit the same section of town to buy a present for the wedding I'm going to on Sunday, so a miracle could happen.
Between this project and several other things I have going on at the moment, my room is mainly decorated in tottering stacks of books, accentuated by a carpet of journal articles. They're even taking over my bed, though granted, that's because books are fucking heavy, so I tend to drop them in the first open space available as soon as I walk through the door. I wonder what the limit is to the number of books I can have checked out at a time, because I suspect I'm going to hit it soon.
Now, if it were tottering stacks of novels, that would be normal and I would feel at home. Instead, they're all ancient, dusty volumes, bound in plain, solid colors, and I feel very much like the poor student in a story about bohemian Paris. I should be living in a garret and drinking absinthe.
