I swear Middleton Library is haunted. The stacks move around like the evil maze in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Like Florida Boulevard, which I’m not entirely sure is safe to drive in. I’m always afraid it’ll move when I’m driving on it and direct me into the scary hell that is Mississippi. I certainly don’t want that.
Worse yet, it’s always at least ten degrees colder in here than the temperature outside. As I have “reptile blood” (Mr Mojo’s-to-be words, not mine), this is not a survivable situation. It’s impossible to type when my hands feel like icy blocks of suckage.
On a nicer note, I’m donating a bunch of my books to a drive and friends, and have managed to find a replacement for them, because I have this nonexistent room in my apartment for them. The encyclopedia of world costumes is the one I’m most excited about, because I’m the weirdo who watches historical movies for the fashion and does extensive research on dress in my free time for writing. There’s also a bunch of Greek philosophy books that look interesting, and hopefully I’ll get to during the three weeks I have free between spring and summer sentences.
Oops, I mean semesters.