I’m sitting between Lauren and Mickey in Ms. Fitzgerald’s class (although the room is Ms. Snowden’s).
A test she gives has two sides, one a question on how to make a single page layout in WordPress without access to the file system. I can’t be motivated to write out the answers to these boring questions, and I know it. Still I receive a decent grade, perhaps because the instructor is passing on.
There’s a broken red light sitting in bowl above the dishwasher. Electricity comes on. I notice the bulb is still broken, and I replace it with a pink bulb taken from another light cord.
Snippet of conversation:
“how many in our peloton (pel-o-THON)?”
“¿What is this, Barthelona?”