Frog in a Pot

I remember being told as a child that if you try to drop a frog in hot water, it will hop out before it dies; if you drop it in cold water and then heat the water up, it will just hang out in there until the water gets too hot and then frog will die. The point was supposed to be about how we don't make bad choice all of a sudden. For instance, if someone offered me a million dollars to kill someone, I wouldn't do it. If they offered me a thousand dollars to kill a rose bush, maybe I would. And then if they offered me 100,000 to kill a dog and then a million to kill a person, maybe that would work.

(Side note: I've always wanted to test this to see if it's true, but no one is ever willing to try it out with me. The frog one. Not the murder one.)

I sometimes get this story mixed up with the one about crabs in a pan. If you put one crab in a pan and start heating it up, the crab runs away; if you put several crabs in a pan, if one tries to run away, the others grab it and pull it back it. As opposed to the other story, this one is supposed to be about fellowshipping I think. Put a bunch of crabs together and they all support eachother getting killed in a pan. Maybe these stories were written by Americans who don't eat frogs but do eat crabs.

I was reminded of these stories because I work in this office which is like the frog pot. When I get there in the morning, it is usually about 80 degrees, so I turn on the AC. After about 30 minutes, I start getting a little cold because it blows right at me, so I turn it off. I usually don't think to turn it on again until someone stops by at 4 or so and points out to me that it is 87 degrees in my office.

I should be getting an office mate any day now, but I don't know that it will help. What if they are a crab and not a frog?

My Home

So I've been promising people for weeks that I would post pictures of my new space. I have this really great single-room studio apartment right off the Charles River. I love it to death.

The first thing that a person might notice walking into my building are the great common areas. This one is right inside the front door. It has a pool table and large screen TV.

Other common areas have really beautiful views of the city.
The next thing you would notice is that the door to the residences are very colorful. My door is green.
Thanks to a lot of help from Bob and Brittany, my apartment is now fully stocked. Here is what it looks like on the inside.

Here is the kitchen:
And the bathroom:
And the bedroom/whatever-it-needs-to-be-since-I-have-only-one-room:

Please note my amazing bed/desk. It's a bed on top and a desk underneath. I think that it is the perfect furniture for the space I have.

So there you have it: the grand tour.

The Last Day

I've been watching episodes from this TV show called "Bones" recently. It's about an FBI team where one guy is the classic FBI tough guy and his partner is a female forensic anthropologist. They solve murders. In order to solve these murders, they do lots of science and often try to piece together the last few days of a person's life.

So of course, I've been a little paranoid as I walk around late at night about being slaughtered on the streets of Cambridge. As I was walking home today, however, I was thinking about how easy it would be to track my last 24 hours if I were murdered on the way home because so much of the stuff I do is time stamped.

24 hours ago, I was just finished a game of Settlers with my brother and sister-in-law. You could ask them and find out.

I went to bed at around 12:32. I know this because I got an email right as I was climbing into bed and it reminded me to turn of the sound on my phone so I could sleep.

My alarm went off at 8:30 and I got to work before 10:14 when I sent an email off to someone to help me with network problems I've been having.

I worked until around 2pm when I went and bought a double cheeseburger from Flat Patties at 2:13pm. I know this from my receipt.

I then went back to work and stayed there until 5:25, when I sent a text to my sister-in-law telling her I was on my way over.

I left their place at 6:40 and called my friend at 6:43 while I walked to FHE.

I caught a train back to Harvard at 10:13, right after hanging up with my HT companion.

I arrived at Littauer (the Harvard Econ building) a little after 10:20 after hanging up with my HT companion again.

I finished up work at 11:20pm and walked home after sending an email to my boss.

Not that anyone reading this is interested in the play-by-play of my life, but I thought that it was interesting that I can account for almost every minute if I had to.

This got me thinking about how we should live every day as if it were the last day of our life. Of course, clearly some philosophies aren't for all people, but I was thinking that it would be a cool tradition if at a person's funeral, someone recounted that person's last 24 hours or so in as much detail as possible. Maybe that's morbid, but I think that I would have really meaningful days if I knew that is what was going to happen.