Today was a day of much stress.  It was the deadline for The Ivy League School, and I was scrambling to make sure all my “t”s were crossed and my “i”s (though not too many “i”s, you want to limit those in your personal statement) were dotted.  I had many stupid technical difficulties, and it felt like the Fates were against me.  But I did get the application off, and the transcripts and test scores are winging their way to Philly.  I also feel like I might puke.  I’ve spent a goodly sum of money doing this, and no guarantee.  They have between a 6 and 10 % acceptance rate, so I’m not just whistling Dixie.  In fact, I wonder if I haven’t thought too highly of myself.  Sure, you’ve got to play big to win big, but maybe I’m not the intellectual high roller I fancy myself to be.

With that crisis of confidence in play, I have to say that I’m pretty amazed that even though I haven’t been totally following The Grid to the letter (or rather, minute), I have still been keeping up.  Sure, I had to bag work for two days to finish one paper and the last page of the other may be in French-like jibberish, but they are done.  I even have a grip on the Phonology assignment, though the true test is will I be able to do it all in the format.  I’d say “yikes,” but the fact that it is to be written in English will be a real time saver.

And that is what I’ve had on my mind today.  This morning, I got up and was running late.  I didn’t eat any breakfast; even worse, I had no coffee.  I get to work 15 minutes late, only to realize that I wasn’t actually on the schedule.  However, someone had called in sick, so I made a few pennies.  Plus, when I was vacuuming one of the rooms, I found a nickel.  That’s better than being poked in the eye with a stick.  As I was getting ready to leave, I asked one of the full-timers if there might be any leftovers in the kitchen.  Sure enough, I managed to snag some free donuts.  A nickel and two free donuts – already my day was looking up.  I was telling this to some girls in class, and one of them agreed that a nickel was indeed lucky.  Her roommate found a nickel, and later that day they found the perfect apartment.  Hey, that’s enough evidence for me.

Alas, the power of a found nickel has it’s limitations.  I needed some of today’s nickel luck to work retroactively on last night.  After one of our best 2 hour conversations yet, GSS and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye (which was disappointing).  He looked extra fetching yesterday, with a new haircut (I have no idea why, but a fresh haircut on a man does something to me) and a nice shirt that brought out the color of his eyes.  We were conversationally cracking.  Of course, there always seems to be a snag.  He ended talking to someone else for a half an hour (sure, I’m greedy) and then I didn’t get a chance to see him before I left (I also half-wonder if that was planned, as he disappeared about a half an hour before I left and I’m naturally paranoid).  I left him a brief note, and later I sent him an e-mail (in my defense, the e-mail was hilarious).  To which he did not respond.  Not that I have Attention Deficit Disorder or anything, but The Young Man also looked terrific yesterday.  I may have inadvertently stared at him during my downtime.  Alas, he was also busy; for most of the time, I must admit that I was too busy having a great conversation with GSS.  Still, as always, it didn’t seem to amount to anything.  This is what I don’t get; clearly, we get along.  We have this great rapport, but there never seems to be any traction.  Just when I think I’ve got a bead on what’s going on, he does something mystifying (to me, anyway).  Then I start to feel like Ingrid Bergman in Gaslight.  Am I imagining things?  Am I reading too much into everything?  I don’t know.  And I feel like I’ve tipped my hand with the whole “number” thing.  And what was up with that?  I don’t have any answers, which I hate.

Ah well, tomorrow should be an exciting day of toilet scrubbing, laundry and Phonology.