chicago '08

I am supposed to be writing at home today, but I spent the afternoon chatting with the washer & dryer repair guy. it wasn't fun. he asked a million diagnostic questions and I had few answers. 'how often do you use the medium cycle?' 'is your exhaust cord (or something like that) clogged?' who the hell knows these things? just fix it. when he arrived, I was in the middle of a search in PSYC-INFO and had several new and promising articles pegged for follow-up. by the time he left, my session had timed out and my search was not saved. he did, however, tell me a juicy tidbit about those stuck up music students who live across the way. (Hugsband helped one of their dads put a HUGE wolf spider out of its misery when he was trying to slaughter it on their porch, and they don't even say hi now!!!) apparently, little miss cello player dropped an entire thing of deodorant in the toilet, and the repair guy couldn't get it out. the whole thing had to be replaced. not so high and mighty now are you, fancy pants?