Chapter the Twenty-Fourth, in which Sierra Goes to Class for the First Time and Attempts to do Her Laundry

Today was the first day of the rest of my semester.

Because today was the first day of class.

It went swimmingly, though, and I feel very confident that I can do well in “19th Century English Novel” class (or module, as they like to call them here).  If any of you have taken English 2100 (or are taking it at the moment), it appears that we’ll be discussing 19th-century English novels through a new historicist perspective–which to everyone else will mean nothing, so I won’t linger on that point.

I’m not really concerned about most of my classes, anyway, and there are only four.  I will admit to being quite nervous about my French Revolution class, however, because my academic advisor here says that it’s harder than any of the others I have planned. 

You see, apparently British professors expect their students to do more independent study than American ones do.  I was told that not everything would be handed to me on a platter–but I’m fine with that.  I am absolutely so interested in the French Revolution that I’ll be more than willing to learn all about it that they want me to, or more, if I feel that I don’t know enough afterwards.  But the way I figure it is, if I’m going to learn about it anyway, why not get a class credit for it?  Thus why I’ve signed up.  However, one must also account for the fact that the British university system is set up for only three years, as opposed to the American four.  And the class in question has been designed for that third year.  So I’m pretty much guaranteed to be behind them–for now.  I’m working on catching up. 

Come, now, really.  How could I pass up a chance to take a class about the French Revolution in England?  The only way it could be better is if it were in France–or perhaps a course on the American Revolution.  But UNC Charlotte has that class covered this semester, O dreadful spite! 

I’ll have a better idea about that class after Thursday, and I’ll let you know what I decide.

I also have endeavoured to do my laundry today, but there are a couple of setbacks that I must work out.  For one, the machine is rather small, compared to what I’m used to.  So I have divided my clothes into three loads, possibly with the necessity of a fourth.  That’s one thing.  For another, the first load took two and-a-half hours to complete, and then some of my socks weren’t dry.  I’m convinced, myself, that this fact is due to some gross mistake on my part; the washing alone took an hour and-a-half, which is three times the normal rate, so I believe I misadjusted a setting somewhere.  If not, then washing shall be a chore, indeed!

I’ve been reading Oliver Twist all day, it seems, when not in class, because it’s the first novel we’re covering in that novel class and because I have the time now whereas I might not later (i. e. after that French Revolution class begins).  And I’m afraid to say that sometimes my reading affects my writing–so if this all sounds a bit stilted, be assured that this, too, shall pass.  And I think that Josh is reading the same thing for one of his classes, but they’ve probably already finished it and moved on.  I just thought it was ironic, and I wish I had thought to ask him for his copy when he’s through.  Cheap books are hard to find, here.  Perhaps it is the sign of a thriving market for printed materials.