Another Quartet of Skylerian Moments

A Quartet of Skylerian Moments

He deals in dairy

Merp was hungry.  

Skyler possessed macaroni and cheese.  

Merp offered a transaction:  one dollar for a cup of "college gold".  

Skyler said that his goods were worth no less than $1.69 apiece.  

Merp tried to give Skyler coins.  

Skyler threw them in Merp's face, saying, "They will sit on my dresser and then I will lose them."  

Merp had to find another way to compensate.  Fortunately, the starving artist is never at a loss.

Runner Problems #1

I am a runner.  I run some miles almost every day.  This means that I wear at least two sets of clothes every day: school clothes (à la Clark Kent) and running clothes (Superman).  Since you're all quick-witted and observant readers, you'll notice that this is twice as much clothing as the average non-athlete.  And twice as much laundry.  

I am constantly doing laundry.  Whenever I have a sufficient amount of free time, the siren song of the washer calls to me.  Swish bump clang! it croons.  Swish bump clang!  In the manner of gangsters at strip clubs, I make it rain on those sweet square machines.  I am constantly leaping up or down the stairs (where I found that errant pizza crust) to the laundry room, folding laundry, doing homework while waiting for the laundry to be done, or simply letting clean, damp laundry infuse my dorm room with the ambience of a detergent-scented greenhouse.

One helpful gift my parents gave me when I left for college was a wooden drying rack.  This is pretty much a permanent fixture in my small room; it fits together neatly with the bed, desk, bookshelf and dresser in such a way as to obliterate the notion of floorspace.  It's a good thing that I have a hovercraft.

There is also no vertical space in my room because of laundry.  I pride myself on the unnecessary complexity of my sartorial organization.  Clean clothing goes in the dresser or "closet".  (A wimpy, open-faced sandwich of a closet.)  Not-clean-at-all goes in the laundry basket or, if I'm feeling spontaneous, the dresser. 

Clean-but-drying.

No, for real, in the laundry basket.

Then there are finer gradations.  Clean-but-drying goes on the drying rack, the wall hooks, the sprinkler pipe (this is illegal), the hallway pegs, the bed, the back of the door, and visitors who stand still long enough.  Probably-clean-after-airing-out goes on the drying rack (if there's space).  Clean-enough-to-wear-post-run is hung on any edges that are edgy enough.  Bored yet?  Confused?  I thought so.


I can't overestimate the importance of laundry in my college life.  Even my suitemates are affected by its pervasiveness.  Skyler actually had an upsetting dream the other night about me hanging up laundry in his room.  Somewhat nonplussed, real-life Merp apologized.  I guess that's what you're supposed to do when you're mean to someone in their dream.  (But I can't help wondering:  which category of clean did the laundry fall under?)

Worth not being able to decorate the urinal

At college, I live in a suite (nom de plume “Mopkins 5E”) with three guys and two other girls.  We girls had not met the guys until we all moved in this year.  At first we were apprehensive about having to share a bathroom with this unknown quantity.  Having guys around meant that we couldn’t decorate the urinal with wreaths and flowers, as is sometimes done by all-girl suites.  And there were plenty of other worries.  What if they were mean?  What if they were messy?  What if they liked country music?

HOWEVER.  It only took a few days for all six of us to feel like we won the life lottery.  Our suite is clean and quiet and everyone is nice to each other, just like in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.  Every time I’m feeling down, the guys cheer me up without even knowing that anything is wrong—just by being themselves.  Here are some examples of the happenings that have gone down in our common room:

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Pierre-Marie:  (thoughtful) Are there any symptoms of suicide?

Skyler:  (matter-of-fact) Well, death.

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Skyler:  (anxious) Oh no, is that rain?

Sal:  (disbelieving) No, it’s just a bunch of people standing outside and going psspsspsspsspsss.

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One night, Tiberius and Skyler and Sal were waiting for Pierre-Marie so they could get late-night pizza.  This is their evening ritual; they eat pizza and play whist at the sticky tables while classic rock music blasts overhead, solidifying the campus-pub feeling. 

Pierre-Marie was taking forever to get ready.  Tiberius got frustrated by the waiting and put his jacket over his head like a tent.  

"Wheeere's Tiberius?" I asked in a singsongy voice.

"I don't know," said Sal.  "I haven't developed object permanence yet."

I laughed so hard that I almost threw up.  So this is my tribute to the guys of Mopkins 5E:  you are the best, and you bring this joy to my life every day.