Today is the senior trip to Six Flags, meaning those who are not attending, such as myself, would do well to take advantage of the situation and stay home. It’s either that or go to school and find out there are only about three people in any given senior class. Medusa, thankfully, actually allowed me to do the former. Granted, she also left me a detailed list of chores in order to ensure that I don’t spend the day too comfortably. None of them were particularly rigorous. Except the dishwasher bit.

For those of you who are absolutely dying to know about the state of my family’s kitchen, the dishwasher died a few weeks ago and until very recently contained a few inches of various liquids such as sour milk, ketchup runoff, pulpy orange juice, etc. The new dishwasher arrived the other day; the repairmen are scheduled to come and install it this evening. The dead dishwasher, however, had to be emptied first. And Medusa can be quite sadistic at times, often at the expense of her hedonistic offspring.

Note to anyone who cares to take it: the emptying process wasn’t exactly pleasant and I wouldn’t recommend it. After the first couple minutes, I had the brilliant idea of singing in order to take my mind off other matters, and launched into an off-key, backwards Les Mis medley. It went well, for the most part, though I pity the neighbors if they overheard anything. Still, I only gagged once, in the midst of a rather nasal, rendition of IDAD. Hallelujah again. And that was that and the dishwasher is empty and I probably won’t be able to drink milk for about a month.

Really, Medusa, what did I do to deserve that?

Yes, anyway, this has been the highlight of my day off: conquering the late dishwasher. I have no life, in case I haven’t made that clear.

I’m going to have to add another entry soon. This one bothers me.

Adieu.