And our hands feel empty though they’re full, all the time

I’m home and I need a job and to figure out what it is I’m doing with my life.

Bagged milk is a wily thing. It once reminded me of a water balloon yet was too durable to burst on my victim two stories below. The whole situation was messy and I had to mop the porch because of it.

Just as I thought that my adventures including bagged milk had come to an end, one fateful and dreary Thursday proved me wrong. As I returned from a lonely voyage of grocery shopping, I was dismayed to find that a freshly-purchased bag of milk was leaking. I was alarmed. What does one do with a leaking bag of milk? It was just a pin hole: could I balance it in the refrigerator so that it would not leak until needed? There was already a full, newly cut bag in there: chugging the last bag and cutting the corner of the punctured one and pretending like nothing happened was not an option. Maybe no one would hit into it and it would not squirt everywhere. Was it spoiled forever? Should I throw it away? Tape it up? Hurl it at yet another antagonist? When I was a young lass milk came in cartons. I was in no way equipped to handle a dilemma of this variety. “I need a Canadian”, I yelled.

Obviously, nobody came to answer my cries. They had grown accustomed to my nationalistic slurs and could not gage how dire the situation at hand was from the panic in my voice. I sought out Janelle, a lifelong Canadian who had presumably been cutting open bags of milk since 1987. I was advised to just cut it open and put it in another container.

Since “cut [the milk bag] open” in Canadian means to make a small hole in the corner furthest away from the handle in a plastic pitcher, I did just that. And the seasoned milk bag cutters laughed at me later, claiming I should have poured the milk into the alternate container and thrown the bag away altogether. Life is so much clearer when milk is contained in cartons.

Blogging is stupid. I go back to the United States in two days, for my freshman year has concluded.

I would have to say that my most brilliant invention of freshman year of college is the “I WILL” sign. It is merely a strip of thick, white paper that has “I WILL” scrawled on it in big back letters. It can be used to indicate that you are aware that you made a mess or left something undone and that intend to finish the job in the very near future. For example, the “I WILL” sign may be found atop a large pile of dishes on the floor or amidst the rubble of an obscenely dirty room. It conveys responsibility without actually having to do work immediately (who has the time?); the thought is there and the thought is what counts. Besides, it’s a shameless Radiohead reference. Make yourself an “I WILL” sign today.

April 9, 2007: Ashley learns how to make crêpes.