8:52 Lori barges into my room approximately - ok, exactly, I checked the clock - one hour and eight minutes before I am scheduled to wake up. She is yelling something, literally, screaming it, about her calendar. Between it being 8:52 and thirty seconds in the morning, the harry potter on tape playing on the broken screen of my mactop, my general disinclination to listen to anything Lori says in general, and my feelings about the importance of her calendar, I am having difficulty forming an appropriate response to her presence. She storms out.
8:54 Lori barges BACK into my room, further disrupting my attempts to continue sleeping and haranguing me about her calendar. I decide to cut my losses and manage to tell her to get out of my room so I can proceed with looking for her goddamn calendar. It is a testament either to Lori's familiarity with living with me or her lack of any capacity for serious logical thought that she didn't question this cause and effect at all. I have not yet decided which testament is most applicable. But she looked satisfied and left so that I could look for the calendar...which impresses upon me the urgency with which I should consult the stacks of things under my bed to find this calendar before she comes back and/or I fall asleep again.
8:57 I locate the calendar and in a combined motion of disgust and triumph - I know, an odd marriage - manage to launch it toward the door. Unfortunately it falls several feet short and land in the middle of my room, where Lori steps on it when she barges in to check on my progress. This enrages her for some reason and she takes on several characteristics of a wild animal about to attack. I hastily take refuge under my covers and wait for the loud to pass. I hear a snap and suddenly my harry potter has ceased playing. I peer out from under a corner of my duvet to see lori making off with my broken mactop clutched to her chest, muttering to herself, and moving at an impressively rapid pace.
9:00 I am awake at an awkward time because an hour is too short to be back asleep for a satisfying length of time and too long to be awake until school starts. I manage to get another unsatisfying hour or so of peep anyway.
10:09 I am in the car and Lori is driving, the NPR on the radio is at volume 10. Lori starts talking about something which I still don't care about and I told her just to not talk to me and turned the volume up to fifteen.
10:15 The radio volume is now at 30 and I am trying to ignore the mad rambling that is going on in the driver's seat next to me while I put on my makeup before class.
10:22 We arrive at school, it is mistily raining, and Lori decides that instead of dropping me off outside my building she is going to park on the far side of the parking lot in order to punish me with the twin discomforts of rain and exercise. She then proceeds to talk - really really loudly until I turn the NPR volume back down - and manages to get across that she will not be here to get me at 1230 when my class ends, and that she also does not know when she will be arriving and that she knows I don't have a phone but surely I will find some way of contacting her, possibly around two. I am somewhat put out by this because I have (unbeknownst to lori) accidentally left my patch on my bedside table, brought the somewhat ambitious read Doctor Zhivago instead of something time absorbing, and left my computer at home. I berate her for doing this to me (again) and inquire why, for the sake of god and all things that are holy, could she not tell me these things before we leave the house so I can prepare myself for extra hours of waiting. Because this also happened last week. She refuses to accept any blame for anything and tells me I can work on my laptop. When I point out that I have not brought said laptop because I am going to art class, she makes a face like a fish when it breathes and no sound comes out because it is a fish, only this was due to lack of a brain and not oxygen or vocal chords.
10:25 I tell her that she only ever thinks of herself and slam the car door closed. I go to the trunk to field my umbrella, since I now have to trek across the parking lot, and discover that the trunk is locked. I knock on the trunk and indicate that it needs to be opened, but Lori decides that instead of unlocking the trunk she is just going to back out on top of me. So the car is moving too quickly for me to move out of the way, and in the interests of preserving my own life I am banging on the back window in a blind panic trying to signal her to stop. She doesn't stop, so I get angry and am now legitimately afraid and must bang harder.
10:28 The palm of my left hand is now bruised and throbbing and I consider myself lucky to be alive. Lori then looks at me and begins a three-point turn out of her parking space and so I approach the window and bang on it trying to indicate that I need things inside the car. She doesn't look at me and speeds away, leaving me in the parking lot, wet, without half my stuff, no phone, no idea of when I might be leaving, with a wounded hand, and out of breath from my recent defense of my own life. And also looking like a raving lunatic who has just had a serious physical confrontation with a vehicle and lost.
I will have to continue with the afternoon portion of my experience once my wounded hand has recovered from all this typing.
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