Tuesday Hatred and the Sciences of Man
I hate that I have yet to receive my 1099-INT form from Citibank. I hate, too, that I cannot simply download a copy of the form using the meager online access I enjoy. [UPDATE: Previously I had called Citibank to complain about this and the guy I spoke to assured me that (a) they had been sent out in January and (b) they’d send me another. As none had arrived by the 15th, I called again and spoke to someone who offered to just give me the fucking info over the phone, who then, when he saw the fragliche info, informed that as the amount of interest I’d earned was so low they just didn’t report it, and that’s why I never received the form.]
I hate it when cafés which play music play the music way too fucking loud. This hatred does not diminish when the cafés take on, in crepusculo-vespertine hours, a somewhat different aspect (as does the one in which I am presently writing, which purports to become a wine bar).
I hate that my right leg is confined to a podiatric boot for the next month or so. I hate too that this means that, although I can remove it if necessary, I will likely not be able to get around by biking but must rather resort to using the automobile. On the other hand, I do not hate having a temporary permit for the use of handicapped parking spaces, which also entitles me to use metered spaces free of charge and to park on streets which give preference to residents and businesses.
I hate it when people who don’t know very much about the academic job market attempt to cheer me up. The fact that the people in question include several of my fellow graduate students is rather worrying.
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