Barbara Mann
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Bigger and... Better? - BF

1/31/2014

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Just over a week ago, I moved from a closet of a room into one at least triple the size.  One of my roommates moved out to study abroad, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have more than three square feet of space in which to move around.  I’m still in the throes of settling into my new room; still trying to decorate the walls, arrange the furniture, and fill the surfaces with contents that are distinctly “B.”

My first priority was to furnish my bed: multiple fleece blankets and pillows for optimal comfort and warmth.  Next, I set up my bookshelves.  Arranging my books – many of which I have yet to read, but which have been sitting patiently on my various shelves over the past few years – was an especially fulfilling experience.  There’s something about the newness of my room (or maybe the larger space itself) that makes me feel like I will actually make room in my life to reading some of the books over the next few months.  Someone once told me that I am relentlessly optimistic.  While I’m not sure that I agree with this assessment, I suppose my ability to convince myself anew each semester that I’ll make a dent in my reading list is reflective of that constant optimism.

Much to my dismay, my Big New Room came with a Really Old Radiator.  Over winter break, I discovered that the radiator was leaking – spraying scalding hot water from an opening between two parts of the valve, and dripping more water onto the linoleum floor.  I was adjusting the heat one morning last week when the entire knob came out of the socket.  I don’t have much technical experience with radiators, but I’m pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen.  Since then, I’ve woken up each morning to a little stream of water running down the middle of my floor.  Needless to say, I need to put in a work order to have my radiator fixed.  Someone else might have submitted the work order the first time they discovered a problem with the radiator, but I’ve put up with it for almost two weeks now.  I say all this, because it’s an example of procrastination – a skill (if I can even call it that) I mastered in high school, and which I still struggle with.
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