The Extra Shot

…have been slightly exaggerated.  Slightly.

So for the observant who noticed that this post is credited to “Eric,” I should mention that this is Marc, posting under my brother’s account, on account of an unaccountable hosting issue.  I wish it were an accounting issue, just so I could hit four mentions in that sentence.  Evidently the whole site crashed while I was in New Jersey getting yelled at, resulting in the loss of previous posts and my login information.  Thanks to the work of one sexy Norwegian, things are back to base functionality.

Right.  Several of you probably want to know what’s going on with my life.

On the 7th of March, 2009, I crossed over the Mighty Mac and into the frozen wasteland, previously known as the “Upper Peninsula.”  As I crossed into Michigan’s northern annex, I was stripped of my technological access (though I knew it not) and issued my very own influenza (type B).  Wow.  Thanks, Michigan.

I’m stationed at  N45 51.294 W84 42.209.  Literally, that’s the room that I’ve been living in since the seventh.  The policy at the station is that every new person has to stay at the station for a week before they bounce out to an apartment or whatever.  Since they’re sticking me in “government-leased housing,” I’m living at the station until that goes through.  From henceforth, any time that I want to say that something is moving slowly, I will use the term “at the speed of government paperwork.”  The house that Uncle Sam is renting for me (and others, presumably), is at 957 Huron St., just down the street from the station.  Not even walking distance.  Easy walking distance.  But… things are moving slowly, so at the station, and out of my trunk I continue to live.  Despite this, though, I am excited about the new place.  Closets, places to hang things, and a view out the back of Mackinac island.  Good stuff.  Here’s some pictures I took yesterday (24 Mar 09).

So… a lot of snow and ice now, but I’m guessing that come springtime, the view out my back windows will be the reason why Saint Ignace is considered a “resort town.”  Exciting stuff.

To explain the title of this post, my first week here was fraught with significant personal peril.  In addition to the flu, which caused a dive in appetite and available energy, bad headaches and a general feeling of malise, I had nasty diherrea (is there another kind?).  In the middle of this, I was mopping the floor one night and knocked a sheet steel exit sign onto the bridge of my nose.  A one-in-a-million shot, really.  Had to go to the hospital for that one.

All is better now, and I’ve settled into a remarkably unsatisfying routine, doing dishes during the day and studying during the night.  I’m eager to have a place to “live,” but for now, I’m trying to cram some life into the cracks of my routine, like taking a night and running down to N 45 38.797 W 084 28.475 for some coffee and internets.

More later!

peace,

-Marc