el numero incorrecto

I'm sort of distressed that its Tuesday already. On Sunday, I returned from a very enjoyable weekend in Portland. I'm not really sure what I did yesterday. I unpacked, I slept a lot, I cleaned my apartment a little, I caught up on a few emails, I did some reading, I did a few crossword puzzles, I talked to one or two people on the phone...It's hard to believe that stuff takes a whole day. I guess I also watched about a half dozen episodes of the Simpsons on DVD. My gastrointestinal issues persist, although in a milder form, so I've been trying to avoid caffeine, alcohol, and dairy since I got back. Caffeine and alcohol, no problem. Dairy has been more problematic. I made it until about 5 p.m. today, and then I broke down and had a bowl of cereal. I still feel okay, though, so I'm hoping if I keep eating mostly bananas and rice for the next few days, I'll be fine, regardless of my inability to resist milk.

Today I've been grading, working on the econ picture board (no, I still don't have that damn thing done), and even doing a little research on the internet about jobs/interships for when I graduate (ugh...someone shoot me). It's supposed to rain all week, and today it was both rainy and foggy, a phenomenon that continues to baffle me. A good week to be inside with my laptop or a stack of micro finals, I suppose.

So, DWE and I had the craziest coincidence of schedules at the Oakland Airport. On Thursday, his flight to Vegas left at almost exactly the same time as my flight to Portland, so we took BART to Oakland together. He came back to SF on Saturday, and then left again on Sunday for San Diego. My flight arrived in Oakland at 4:30 p.m., and his left at 5:30 p.m. So he was actually able to check in, clear security, and meet me at my gate when I arrived, which was surreal (remember when anyone could meet you at your gate?). Then we hung out by his gate until his flight left. Maybe I'm just looking for a good way to spin it, but it makes me feel like such an exciting jetsetter to be catching 45 minutes of quality time with my man in an airport before we have to rush back off to our important lives (except all I did was go home and take a bath, which was important to me, and probably to anyone who had to smell me, but not really all that exciting).

I just got a call on my cell from a number that I didn't recognize with a 661 (Bakersfield) area code. I didn't answer, because I assumed, correctly, that it was a wrong number. The interesting part is that the person left a voicemail in Spanish. He spoke too quickly for me to understand much, but he said he had some questions and left his number. I wonder if I should call back and tell him that he got the wrong number. Do I even know how to say "wrong number" in Spanish? "numero incorrecto", I guess (it sounds like Spanglish, but I swear that's what it would be).