This is another MatadorU assignment. I had to write about my day in the present tense but at least once reference the past throughout the story.
A quiet melody rings forth from my phone at 7:40. I momentarily perk up, stop the noise, shut my eyes for a moment, and when I open them again it is 8:20. Luckily I don’t have anything pressing to get to this morning and as I slide out of bed my day begins. Going to the dresser I look through my pile of socks and underwear looking for the fuzzy blue socks that are kept for particularly cold mornings. Finding them I slide my feet and prepare for the daily trial of cold kitchen linoleum and morning chores.
I put a mixture of water and soymilk on the stove to boil for oatmeal. Pack my bag for the day with school stuff I find scattered about and the outfit I’ll wear later. Finishing, I hear the milk-water begin to boil over and run back to throw the oats in. With the milk-water now assuaged I shuffle back to my room to put on my gym clothes; rugby shorts and a T-shirt.
I start truly waking up as I sit down to eat the cinnamon and brown sugar covered warmth I made for breakfast. My steaming oatmeal is a nice counterpoint to the rest of the house. The heat is busted. Again. Glancing at the thermostat hovering around 53F I remember the first time the heat broke a few months back. It was late November and at night the outside temperature would be below freezing. I slept during that time in long underwear, sweatpants, a sweatshirt, knitted hat, and thick wool socks under a comforter and several blankets. When I braved the cold of the house in the morning the thermostat would read in the mid 40’s. It took a few days for the land lord to come fix it but when he did my housemates and I had a celebratory day of keeping it up around 80 before our budgeting minds took hold again.
Prior to yesterday the heat had remained working since those days in November. I scrape the last bits of oatmeal out of my bowl and silently curse our 105 year old house. Most of the time this house is great but sometimes things like this heat issue make me remember the old lady she is.
I walk to school and then across the campus for my daily ritual of running around the track. There are normally a few other runners here but this morning sprinters from the University’s track team are here; somewhat intimidating. I run. The sun breaks out after two laps, further encouragement to run. I stop after three miles, a challenging distance for me. The sun is so nice I continue exercising outside instead of scurrying to the neighboring Rec Center. My repertoire of exercises is pretty small so I run out soon enough and go clean up to get ready for class.
In environmental history we discuss the readings from last class. The basics of photojournalism and multimedia are discussed in The Planet, our school’s environmental magazine creation and publication class.
As I walk home around 6 I think about the story I’m working on for The Planet, interrupted by musings about what I want for dinner. Walking through the back door into the house one of my housemates jumps into view with a giant wooden spoon in her hand ushering me to the pot on the stove. Inside is boiling water with ravioli which she wants my opinion on if they are ready. I give her the affirmative, that I think they are and she hands me a plate. Dinner served!
After dinner I notice the space heaters throughout the house. Our neighbors are the sons of our landlords and as such work for them occasionally. They had dropped off the space heaters to help us cope with our lack of heat until their father could get into town to fix the main heating system. Maybe with the space heaters I won’t have need of the fuzzy blue socks saved for particularly cold mornings tomorrow. I doubt it though.
A quiet melody rings forth from my phone at 7:40. I momentarily perk up, stop the noise, shut my eyes for a moment, and when I open them again it is 8:20. Luckily I don’t have anything pressing to get to this morning and as I slide out of bed my day begins. Going to the dresser I look through my pile of socks and underwear looking for the fuzzy blue socks that are kept for particularly cold mornings. Finding them I slide my feet and prepare for the daily trial of cold kitchen linoleum and morning chores.
I put a mixture of water and soymilk on the stove to boil for oatmeal. Pack my bag for the day with school stuff I find scattered about and the outfit I’ll wear later. Finishing, I hear the milk-water begin to boil over and run back to throw the oats in. With the milk-water now assuaged I shuffle back to my room to put on my gym clothes; rugby shorts and a T-shirt.
I start truly waking up as I sit down to eat the cinnamon and brown sugar covered warmth I made for breakfast. My steaming oatmeal is a nice counterpoint to the rest of the house. The heat is busted. Again. Glancing at the thermostat hovering around 53F I remember the first time the heat broke a few months back. It was late November and at night the outside temperature would be below freezing. I slept during that time in long underwear, sweatpants, a sweatshirt, knitted hat, and thick wool socks under a comforter and several blankets. When I braved the cold of the house in the morning the thermostat would read in the mid 40’s. It took a few days for the land lord to come fix it but when he did my housemates and I had a celebratory day of keeping it up around 80 before our budgeting minds took hold again.
Prior to yesterday the heat had remained working since those days in November. I scrape the last bits of oatmeal out of my bowl and silently curse our 105 year old house. Most of the time this house is great but sometimes things like this heat issue make me remember the old lady she is.
I walk to school and then across the campus for my daily ritual of running around the track. There are normally a few other runners here but this morning sprinters from the University’s track team are here; somewhat intimidating. I run. The sun breaks out after two laps, further encouragement to run. I stop after three miles, a challenging distance for me. The sun is so nice I continue exercising outside instead of scurrying to the neighboring Rec Center. My repertoire of exercises is pretty small so I run out soon enough and go clean up to get ready for class.
In environmental history we discuss the readings from last class. The basics of photojournalism and multimedia are discussed in The Planet, our school’s environmental magazine creation and publication class.
As I walk home around 6 I think about the story I’m working on for The Planet, interrupted by musings about what I want for dinner. Walking through the back door into the house one of my housemates jumps into view with a giant wooden spoon in her hand ushering me to the pot on the stove. Inside is boiling water with ravioli which she wants my opinion on if they are ready. I give her the affirmative, that I think they are and she hands me a plate. Dinner served!
After dinner I notice the space heaters throughout the house. Our neighbors are the sons of our landlords and as such work for them occasionally. They had dropped off the space heaters to help us cope with our lack of heat until their father could get into town to fix the main heating system. Maybe with the space heaters I won’t have need of the fuzzy blue socks saved for particularly cold mornings tomorrow. I doubt it though.
