I’ve been drafting a rather large amount of blog posts, but for some reason I never get myself to finish them. Typical ENFP habit–starting projects are a lot more fun that finishing them.
Today I stayed in bed til noon because it felt so nice to listen to the heavy rain for about an hour on my day off. I also stayed up til 3am scaring myself with “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit” episodes on USA. It’s on my list of “I Know These Are Bad Ideas But I Can’t Help Myself.”
I don’t normally like sleeping in and staying in bed past 10am, but today was an exception. I definitely felt nauseous later on. This leads me to the story of the week.
Living in Westwood indeed has its moments, and a little while ago was quite the example. My apartment is just a few blocks from Frat Row, and so the traffic of drunken college students would appear red on Sigalert at Landfair Avenue (if they had a pedestrian/sidewalk feature). With all the traffic, I really dislike parking on the street Thursday through Sunday but sometimes have no choice due to my inconsiderate neighbor who seriously does not know how to park in our tricky lot in the back. So he just gives up and takes up my spot too with his fat and obnoxious BMW. Bro, your car obviously does not belong in this kind of parking situation, so too bad and GTFO.
With another one of his weak attempts at parking, I for some reason had a bad feeling about parking my car on the street. But I ignored it and went to sleep knowing I had to wake up to move it early because of street cleaning.
The next morning, I took my groggy self to my car and moved it. As I got in, I noticed I couldn’t really see my right sideview mirror. Was it my tired eyes? Was it fogging up? I pulled over and got out to play detective on the mystery.
And there it was. Just glimmering in the sun. Adding an array of color on my gun metal grey exterior. Emitting smells of alcohol and bile. Yup, someone had completely disgorged all over my car.
I stood there in slight shock, but couldn’t help but laugh in the moment. I looked around me and did anyone else around me get vomited on? Nope, the puke perpetrator only struck my property. Oh, but of course. I live the life of Amy Hu.
I didn’t have time to do a thorough cleaning, so I just took a water bottle and some sanitary wipes and did my best to clear up the mess. It was disgusting.
Vomit and I have a long relationship–from being punched in the stomach by my twin so hard that I vomited, to me vomiting blood as a child, to my twin also holding my vomit after overindulgence during a buffet dinner, to my older sister vomiting out the window only to get my parents in the back seat, it’s been full of adventures and not-so-good times. But it does make for interesting stories, in which I am more than willing to elaborate on each one mentioned.
One day I’ll be moving out of this college town and hopefully live in a world where you don’t fear inebriated youths waking you up on your roof or hearing 10 different Top 40 hits at the same time at 3am.
But until then, I’m trying to get used to ear plugs and gaining a little more patience. Don’t worry, I haven’t resorted to getting a license for firearms. Hopefully.
This is Amy Hu signing off for November 21st, 2011.