They didn't clean the apartment by the time he moved in at the end of August, by the way. And there was also a stack of paint cans in the pantry courtesy of the maintenance man. The first time I came to visit in September, I was driven crazy by the slow-draining bathroom drain (which the maintenance man had yet to fix), and I started digging in there with a coat hanger to see if I could dislodge anything. Well, I came up with a seashell. And then another one. And then another one. The pipe was lousy with them. I also got a toothpaste cap.
And that's just the tip of the iceberg, my friends.
But enough for now about Frank's apartment. Let's talk about me. I was in Michigan. I was teaching a composition class at noon, and then going to an evening class at six. When I wasn't teaching or taking classes, I was freaking the fuck out about planning lessons and completing homework. It was really hot, so I was doing a lot of sweating. My hair was at an awkward length, so it was doing a lot of frizzing. I was calling Frank a lot, planning trips home every couple of weeks.
Before those weekend trips home, I would try to work ahead on my homework and class planning, because the round trip to Minnesota took up fourteen hours of valuable working time, in addition to the time I spent hanging out with Frank and my friends from home. I could never fully enjoy myself when I was there because I would feel guilty whenever I was doing something besides work for more than a couple of hours. So, before each successive weekend trip, I would try to work ahead even further, but I never seemed to get as much done as I wanted to.
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