Shan took off this morning to a wedding of his friend in California. He'll be gone for almost a whole week, during which I'll have the house all to myself. I can strew my books all over the floor, keep my knitting projects all over the couch (not on the floor, mind you) and fart and burp as much as I please, thus returning to the times before vigilant consideration entered my life. I wonder how that will feel.
After a few weeks in the field in 1999 with my geology co-student Jakob I was so thouroughly rid of any civilized streak I'd burp mid-sentence and hardly notice. Let's hope these days of solitude won't have that effect this time. Then again, I think Jakob may have contributed to the un-civilizing, seeing as he thought nothing funnier than farting big time once he was safe in his sleeping bag, then unzipping the bag and fanning the gases over my face. Trust me, field geologists are bizarre creatures.
They're having a party next door and shouting like some prairie Indians going to battle. Cornell undergrads are bizarre creatures too.
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