Update: I'm transcribing about 15 hours worth of interviews from this summer, and since I started with the ones that turned out well, I'm reaching the point where I have to hold the tape recorder up to my ear and fiddle with the volume knob as I replay a sentence four or five times to hear my informant over the roaring sound of ambient music that my Talk Book found more interesting than the interview or the occasional ringing telephone placed right next to the tape recorder that both deafens and scares the hell out of me. I predict I'll be deaf by Saturday.
I'll also have lost the sense of touch, since my bathroom still looks like a bomb crater and the shower I snuck into this morning suddenly ran out of cold water for no apparent reason. My first thought was, "can showers run out of cold water?" quickly followed by "OH NOES I AM SECOND DEGREE BURNING." The jet from the shower didn't turn off, but it somehow kept its water pressure and just blasted out scalding hot water that left streaky pink burns down the front of my chest. Between the collapsing floor of my old bathroom and being firebombed in the nude, I think my college is actually trying to kill me.