Ray, the Super, is irritating me. Our oven has been broken since Monday. Rob called about it on monday and left a message. Rob called about it on tuesday and left a message. We saw Ray wednesday on our way out for dinner (because we couldn't cook with a broken oven) and Rob asked him again, and he said "are you going to be home tomorrow morning?" I said I was, and he said he would be by to check it out. I waited until 11:30, and finally decided I had things to do. On the way to work this morning the elevator came up and he got out and saw me and suddenly remembered and said "oh, are you home, can I check that out now?" and I'm like "no, I have to be at work by 9 am (it was 8:50). But I asked him if he had keys to our apartment and he said he did so I told him it was fine if he just went in there and looked at it. Did he? No.
I'm trying to be patient, and I'm afraid to ask again because Ray will tell me to go to hell in a heartbeat.
I met with a professor about taking intermediate photography as my elective next semester. She described some of the assignments to me, and I really like the way she teaches the class, and I think I'm going to take it. PLUS- it means developing pictures for free. I'm going to take some black and white pictures for Jackie and Paul at their wedding, and this way I'll be able to develop them myself. But, I'm torn, because there's also a class second semester about the sixties. I'm in love with the sixties, I think they're so interesting. What to do? Feel free to vote via the comments.
I have to finish reading Gatsby so I can write a paper on it. I have to tell you, everyone seems to love this book, and I'm not seeing what all the hoopla is about.