Do you see that? Do you see that number appended to that series title? Oh. Oh, yes. Our eyes do not deceive us. It is the day. The long awaited …
Well, awaited for about 13 previous days, if we want to get nitpicky about it.
And I know what you’re all thinking. “Emma, did you do it? It was the last day to do it. To complete your goal. Apprehend your white whale. That which most eludes you:
“Waking up prior to 9:00 am.”
And I’m afraid I must disappoint you one, final time:
Dudes, I did not even try. Alarm? Unset. I stayed up last night finishing Wires and Nerve and I just so did not care about waking up at 8:00. I didn’t set alarm and figured, if I managed to do it anyway, that was divine providence. And, if not … I had literally nowhere to be.
So I woke up at 10:45 when my mom called me to talk to me on her way to work.
[Okay, side note to say that WordPress has ONCE AGAIN changed their editing/writing software, and it is ONCE AGAIN not a change for the better, and I am ONCE AGAIN questioning ever building anything on this hellsite. Okay. Back to the post].
While we talked, I ate my breakfast and drank my coffee. She got to work (more accurately, she drove out of cell service, but basically the same thing), and I forced myself into hygiene and clothing. I even put in contacts … so I could pack my glasses. Whoo.
At that point, lunch had come, so I had my last official !TV and Mealtime! before the TV would be packed up.
Then I began to pack my things so as to move into my real room! With all my things, for me to live in! And roam (mostly) freely from!
Ah, it’s the little things, isn’t it?
Packing my stuff up took about 2 hours, and now basically everything but my bedding is waiting for me in my little living space.
After I packed, I took a sticker-book break and listened to Beetlejuice. (Verdict: worth at least a cursory listen. It has … something. I haven’t made up my mind about it yet. Also, to be clear, this is the relatively recent musical Beetlejuice, not the movie. Okay, I think that’s all we need to cover in this parenthetical aside).
Ella came for a window-visit! The last window visit. Nostalgic?
… Kind of, I guess. I mean, I won’t necessarily miss having to crouch on a desk and yell through double-insulated glass to see my friends, so, not super nostalgic.
Today I also received my verdict from Pioneer drama regarding the play I wrote this summer, “High Seas and Misdemeanors.”
That is a period, not an exclamation point, so I’m sure you’re picking up on the lack of excitement and there’s no point beating around the bush: they don’t want it. I’m not really sure why, they didn’t give details; I was pretty confident it was a home run, so I am bummed out.
Not super bummed out, though, because I spent the rest of my day (aside from my dinner !TV and Mealtime! that was, less officially, via laptop) researching and submitting the script to other publishers.
I put a lot into it and I’m really proud of it. It’s fine that Pioneer didn’t want it; that’s part of writing. Heck, part of acting. (I’m really setting myself up for a life full of rejection).
But I am going to find someone else who does.
I took a small publisher-hunt break to watch Mean Girls – it requires a specific sort of mood, and I found myself in it – called Leni, and then resumed the hunt.
I intended to do some more worldbuilding today, but I got sucked so deep into the “publish the script” rabbit hole that I ran out of time. (I could have used the Mean Girls time, but, well … I wanted to watch Mean Girls. Also, I think I’m breaking a record for parenthetical asides in this post; which is kind of impressive, given my penchant for parenthetical asides).
And I have to get to bed! I have a big day tomorrow.
My freedom. (Sighs happily).
I’ve got to submit my last self-assessment(s) by 7:30, and then public health is starting their check-ins for discharge at 8:00. People who are moving are supposed to move as soon as they’ve completed their call, so housing can get our quarantine rooms cleaned for their actual residents’ move-in on Sunday. So I’ve got to be ready to go by 8:00, theoretically.
Though, in reality, my last name is not far enough up the alphabet to get an 8:00 o’clock call, so I could probably stretch it to 8:15-8:30. But in the unlikely event that I’m an early call, we’ll be ready by 8:00 anyway.
And then it’s to my real room, to the ATM, to the laundry, to the student center to exchange keys, to the bookstore to get a mailbox (and possibly stationery) … etc.
My friend, the one who picked me up at the border (I never know who to name and who to leave anonymous on this thing, it’s a weird line to walk) is also picking me up around noon for a celebratory “you’re out, jailbird!” brunch and Vancouver-explore.
I am. SO. looking forward to it.
I am still feeling bizarrely Stockholm-Syndrome-y about leaving, but I am also so ready to leave. I think, as of now, the readiness is outweighing the Stockholm Syndrome.
Perhaps I’ll write a post tomorrow, summarizing my discharge from quarantine; we’ll see. If not, who knows when I’ll post next? You guys no me. There is little rhyme or reason.
Either way, next time you read this blog, I’ll be a free woman.
If not, something will have gone terribly wrong, and you can be sure you’ll hear about it.