This is pretty funny.

I started off Valentine's day being really, really depressed. Depression shifted to frustration and a shallow and adolescent rage. Met with Rebecca, then i walked home, and clogged the toilet. While my friends enjoyed their evenings of love, wine, and sex, I frantically ran from apartment door to apartment door in my building, knocking furiously, attempting to locate a plunger. (Never try to unclog a toilet by hand, even if you're wearing a glove or garbage bag or whatever, which i was. It just doesn't work.) Finally I called the old, wheelchair-bound woman who lives beneath me. She thought i was calling to complain about the noise from her TV (which has often woken me up at 5 in the morning) -- she's kind of hard of hearing and needs to turn it up really loud. Before i told her i just wanted to borrow her plunger, she told me that her husband had died just a few days ago (he was living in a nursing home, and so i never met him.) I felt horrible. She's moving to a nursing home on the other side of town. I borrowed her plunger, spet about a half an hour trying to figure out how to unclog the toilet before i realized that i'd basically taken care of it with the hand in garbage bag method but just had to fix the fusher mechanism in the tank so that the toilet would flush again. Anyway, i did that, took a shower, put my clothes in the washing machine, mopped the floor, and headed to campus to get some food (nione at home.) Ate dinner at ivy noodle at like 10 in the evening by myself, went to the greenhouse party for like five minutes, got dragged by Irma into this ridiculous dance party in the basement of one of the residential colleges, left quickly. Stood online for shades and then left, deciding it would be a good idea to get work done instead, but wound up here, at this computer cluster, instead of doing work at home. The euphoria of having sucessfully unclogged the toilet has somewhat worn off and I hope tomorrow doesn't suck so much.  ¶ 12:38 AM