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Me and the terrible, horrible, no-good, very-bad you-know-what.
Cut for boringness and graphic descriptions.
I woke up this morning from a dream in which an argument with Laura over poetic form ended in my receiving threatening letters from her Mafioso brother-in-law (who, as far as I know, does not exist.) Whereupon, I discovered that my alarm had failed to go off. These stories always start that way, don't they? 'My alarm clock didn't go off.' Little did I know it was to be a recurring theme; all day I would run into random people who confessed their alarms hadn't gone off this morning. My roommate, for example. We had fifteen minutes to get ready and get to our eight o'clock classes. In my mad rush, I discovered that my watch and my bike key had both broken off my lanyard, so I had to run, and got to beekeeping, out of breath, only five minutes late.
In beekeeping, I very cleverly managed, by dint of placing my ungloved hand on my hat, to smash my thumb onto a bee. My thought process went something like this: "Wow, that stings. Hey, what a coincidence! I'm in the beeyard, and my hand stings, almost like I got stung! How funny, there's even a black thing on my hand there, like a stinger. Oh, wait, it is a stinger. Look, it's still pumping venom in! You can see it move! Isn't that *cool*?" Whereupon the prof gently suggested I scrape it out, to keep any more venom from being injected.
On my structural exam, there was a high point when I correctly guessed today's date. On my chem quiz, I didn't even remember my section number, much less my exam seat.
The bee had managed to sting me right in the first joint of my thumb. Downside: by Geochem, it had swollen enough that writing was awkward. Upside: I managed to manipulate the pain to keep me from falling asleep. I went to dinner, and came back to discover that, despite fliers all over Dorchester saying the Stylus meeting was yesterday, it was in fact tonight, and I had missed it.
I have no idea whether Mom's picking me up tomorrow or not. And I'm still sick. I have moved on from the "drippy" stage to the "hack my lungs out" stage.
Those were the fun parts of the day. I'll spare you the rest. Now, I am going to bed.
I woke up this morning from a dream in which an argument with Laura over poetic form ended in my receiving threatening letters from her Mafioso brother-in-law (who, as far as I know, does not exist.) Whereupon, I discovered that my alarm had failed to go off. These stories always start that way, don't they? 'My alarm clock didn't go off.' Little did I know it was to be a recurring theme; all day I would run into random people who confessed their alarms hadn't gone off this morning. My roommate, for example. We had fifteen minutes to get ready and get to our eight o'clock classes. In my mad rush, I discovered that my watch and my bike key had both broken off my lanyard, so I had to run, and got to beekeeping, out of breath, only five minutes late.
In beekeeping, I very cleverly managed, by dint of placing my ungloved hand on my hat, to smash my thumb onto a bee. My thought process went something like this: "Wow, that stings. Hey, what a coincidence! I'm in the beeyard, and my hand stings, almost like I got stung! How funny, there's even a black thing on my hand there, like a stinger. Oh, wait, it is a stinger. Look, it's still pumping venom in! You can see it move! Isn't that *cool*?" Whereupon the prof gently suggested I scrape it out, to keep any more venom from being injected.
On my structural exam, there was a high point when I correctly guessed today's date. On my chem quiz, I didn't even remember my section number, much less my exam seat.
The bee had managed to sting me right in the first joint of my thumb. Downside: by Geochem, it had swollen enough that writing was awkward. Upside: I managed to manipulate the pain to keep me from falling asleep. I went to dinner, and came back to discover that, despite fliers all over Dorchester saying the Stylus meeting was yesterday, it was in fact tonight, and I had missed it.
I have no idea whether Mom's picking me up tomorrow or not. And I'm still sick. I have moved on from the "drippy" stage to the "hack my lungs out" stage.
Those were the fun parts of the day. I'll spare you the rest. Now, I am going to bed.