Journal: November 20, 2002
November 20, 2002
Hey this is Tegan. This is my first Journal Entry and I am only writing it because I am obsessive and I know that no one else has been submitting and some part of me thinks that people will stop coming to the website if I don't do something new and relevent to bring the people in.
The artist side of me thinks I am being too obsessive and that I sure worry about my laundry that is sitting in the dryer in the hotel basement right now. I just can't bare to check on it as I know that is most likely soaking wet still. The washer was not balanced properly so the clothes were not wrung out before I put them in the dryer. I was too lazy and cheap to put them through the wash a second time and so I just chucked them into the dryer. I have had my fingers crossed for 40 minutes and I hope when I do work up the energy to get them they are dry. They won't be though, that's my luck. Or my bad Karma.
This morning in the van Sara went on an organizing, cleaning spree and made us all limit our hand bags to 1 each and through the rest a)away or b)into the back. Which is basically chucking them away since the back is where all the equipment is and my laptop and phone charger are junk since their ride back there yesterday. Anyways, I was sitting on the back seat and there is a little spot beside it for a few bags. One of which ended up being mine, since I refuse to put them in the back anymore and Sara placed her mini back pack, which is really a normal back pack, I just call it mini to annoy her, on top of mine. After a few blocks in the van with Nick, our new driver driving, it toppled of and went tumbling into the doorway. Which is soaked with rain/snow water and dirt. She called me names I dare not repeat in hopes our young readers parents won't blame us for their childerens trucker mouths later in life. But use your imagination and then pretend like Roasanne Barr is saying it and you are close. I kindly reminded her that her bag was placed in a percarious spot and that I was not really responsible for the well being of the bag. It was a mini backpack and could easily sit at her feet or on her lap. She did not agree. I giggled. She complained. Two hours later, after a fairly smooth ride from Kingston to Ottawa, we pulled into our hotel ahead of pre planned schedual. Sara's bag took a dive once more. Again I giggled, again she complained,blamed and yelled, again I didn't give a shit. Oh well. But my Karma dosen't look good today. I know I should have held onto the bag. But it was fun watching it sail off my bag and tumble down the van at high speeds. Whatever was in there surely wasn't in it's original condition upon arrival, but we were and isn't that what matters most? Isin't it more important that the two news papers, scattered cardboard, empty cans and bottles and extra handbags were all placed into their final destinations at 9am this morning upon Sara's demands. Making room for a clear path to the door, A clear path made by Sara where her mini back pack visited time and time again on the ride? Can't we all feel better about that and not focus on the mini back pack and it's ineveitable damage? Isin't Sara's insistence really to blame and not be for the tumbling and toppling? Should Sara not have placed her bag somewhere safer, more stable? Who is responsible for mini back packs safety? Who am I to say?
-Tegan