Sunday, August 31, 2008

I just spent the last hour throwing out an obscene amount of infested food. Fortunately, most of it wasn't mine, as most of my nonperishable food is ensconced in the safety of jars and cans. Unfortunately, neither of the roommates were here to help with project decontaminate the pantry. My former roommate moved to the Midwest and left an enormous amount of various types of tea and many bags of unidentified product from the bulk bin. Some of it is identifiable (red lentils), some not so much (white powder... flour?). The other roommate is off galavanting in Europe for the month. His shelf was by far the worst, with the biggest larvae crawling around (ew, ew, ew) and several bags of decomposed something at the bottom of the pile. Lovely. That box of extra small gloves my former boss let me keep is certainly handy!

I'm in the process of writing an abstract for a poster. My first ever, in fact. I'm having a difficult time writing with the assumption that certain unfinished work is in fact done, but fortunately we decided to leave off the gene-from-hell and only include stuff that has already been cloned. That only(!) leaves some site directed mutagenesis and data collection to be done, which seems reachable. 

I'm leaving for a tropical island in a few weeks with some family friends to spread my stepfather's ashes. We are doing other fun activities as well, but the impetus is the spreading of the ashes. He wanted them spread at a cabin where he and my mother stayed during their honeymoon and where he later spread my mother's ashes, so off we go. As the trip approaches I find myself dreading it more than I anticipated. It's a funny, conflicted sort of dread because (a) I'm very excited about the other activities we have planned and spending time with the people going with me, and (b) I feel pretty stupid whining about going. Oh, woe is me, for I am forced to travel to a tropical island. Nevertheless, I think I may be officially freaking out. A couple of days ago I started weeping while talking about my parents, which generally doesn't happen, especially in public. And yet there I was, weeping in public. The thing is that I feel like I should be doing something active to combat the freaking out, but I'm not sure what. Talking or writing to dead people is not very cathartic for me, and I can't imagine what else to do. So, I wait. 

I also managed to bruise my foot badly enough to impair walking by smacking the foot against a chair leg. I spent the whole evening iced, elevated and paranoid because the last time my foot came in contact with a hard object and swelling resulted, I had broken my toe. Helpful hint: when a foot swells to the point where the accompanying shoe no longer fits, it's a bad idea to hike on it.