Russian around

Tonight, a meeting in an attempt to save the Russian program at my former middle school. Then...even more exciting...crashing. Damn cold. I had literally no voice this morning. My dad came into my room and urged me to drink from the water bottle lying by my bed. The problem was, the liquid in the bottle was *ahem* not water. Not wanting him to suspect something, I raised the bottle to my lips, making sure not to actually ingest its precious contents, and pretended to swallow. It was not one of my prouder moments.
In the week following my return home I have consistently forgotten to be pissed about something. Back at school, during my two weeks of work, I put shampoo, conditioner and bodywash in the bathroom I was using, thinking I was its sole occupant. One day I walked in and the conditioner was missing. This was conditioner that I had purchased at a salon; it contained hempseed oil, smelled almost, but not entirely, unlike pot, and I had a good half-bottle of it left. OK, so this is petty. But it just goes to show that even at a prestigious liberal arts college, there are some people who can't be trusted.