February 09, 2007

Old slang.

I've previously mentioned my room; for those who were not paying attention, I will reiterate that it is awesome.

The previous inhabitant, like a majority of room inhabitants in the co-ops in general, made something of a project out of the room. This project was slightly unusual in that it didn't involve the room becoming more colorful, less useable, or more infused with the occupant's personality. No, this project was to turn room 1D into the closest approximation of a reasonably nice hotel room that can be accomplished in a co-op.

The floor is covered in a thicker carpet than the institutional mat standard for the rest of the house, and it's installed properly and in good repair. The walls and ceiling are neatly and evenly painted a respectable if somewhat unrelenting white. The bookshelves are properly installed. There's a queen bed with an attractively modern wood frame, table lamps that match the bed, and a bedside table that doesn't appear homemade. Over the bed hangs an attractive, aggressively inoffensive, watercolor print.

My favorite part, though, is what I found on the bedside table when I moved in. Every hotel room has to contain a book that looks good but will never be read. Usually it's a bible, but that was apparently where the room's caretaker drew the line. So instead it's an impressively thick, dust-jacketed volume of the collected stories of Sherlock Holmes (though to my dismay, it isn't illustrated like Kristen's impressively big Holmes book).

It's Friday, it's raining, I'm not at work because in addition to the literal weather which I, in my basement room, am under, I am also under the metaphorical weather, and I'm shamelessly indulging my love of terminally cute indie rock by listening to the Shins. There couldn't possibly be a better way to proceed from here than to crawl into bed and read 125-year-old mystery stories, so if you need me, I'll be on Baker Street.

Posted by dianna at February 9, 2007 03:42 PM

Ohhhh I'm jealous. I can never again read any of the stories for the first time. Although since I rushed through them all, when I eventually read them again it will be as if I'm reading them for the first time, since I've already forgotten almost all of them.

Posted by: didofoot at February 9, 2007 04:40 PM

your ears are gross!

Posted by: meat at February 9, 2007 06:32 PM

I've started, for no good reason, with A Study In Scarlet, which I vaguely remember reading maybe 10 or 15 years ago. But since I've forgotten everything but the title and one particular line about a bodkin, it's pretty much like reading it for the first time. And it gave me really fucking weird dreams.

Dear Meat: I stuck your toothbrush through my earlobe while you weren't looking. It was strangely pleasurable. Now go back to bed.

Posted by: Dianna at February 9, 2007 08:49 PM

Now I have The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes theme in my head. Dun dun duuuuuuuuun, dun duuun dun DUN....

Posted by: Jacob at February 10, 2007 12:06 PM

Agh! I can't remember how it goes!

I wish I'd copied some of those episodes while I had the chance. Time to get my own Netflix membership, I suppose.

Posted by: Dianna at February 10, 2007 12:47 PM