I still have not taken that chemistry test. But I have to. I have no option. But let me tell you story.
I moved to an apartment to go to school. Yippee. Turns out that people lock their doors or something. I understand that people do this. I understand that they always have. I just never did, and so it was something of an adjustment to me. So much so, that sometimes I forget that our door locks. So a few weeks ago, I ran outside to my car to check for my vegetable jar (in which I carry my daily vegetables) which I had not been able to find in the apartment. I am fortunately wearing clothes and shoes (which is unusual for me if leaving the house for the day isn't happening in that next 10 minutes). I go to my car. I do not find my vegetable jar. I run back up to my door. I cannot open the door. I try. In vain. For several minutes. I finally give up. My roommate is gone at work, and has a big presentation that day. All of my books, homework, assignments, my computer, my phone, a jacket, food, and most importantly, my keys, are all in my apartment. I have no access to them. So after standing about freezing for a minute, I run over to apartment 27. This is where, "the boys" live. My friend from high school was going to come hang out with me that day. I now had no way to contact them. I was going to work on a lab report with my chemistry group. I now had no way to contact them. I needed my lab report. And my notebooks. I now did not have them. So. I asked if I could borrow a phone. I called my roommate, she didn't answer. I sat about. I hadn't even brushed my teeth yet. This was ridiculous. I had been going to meet with people at 11, it was now 10:30. So I went to my (unlocked) car, got a pad of paper, a pen, and a pencil out of the glove compartment. One of "the boys" was kind enough to give me gum, another kind enough to let me use his phone, and still another kind enough to give me a ride to the school. I call my high school friend and tell him to meet me in the chemistry building. I run over there, and meet up with my lab people. They are kind to me, and print me a new lab. And... make fun of me. I take notes on borrowed paper, I send my friend on a wild goose chase, earn his everlasting hate, use random people's phones, meet up with my roommate, and steal her keys. In the end, I made it home, made it into my apartment, got my lab turned in, and I got to work. All's well that ends well, and it's a pretty entertaining story. I made a quasi-vow that that would never happen again. But then.... it turned Tuesday again.
Let me tell you another story.
I have a big chemistry test. I am not prepared for it. I need to sleep, accomplish studying, and do peripheral homework for other classes. Instead I take cake to "the boys", and teach my roommate basic Latin dancing. Then I go to bed, and try to get up in the morning to study. I fall back asleep, and feel sick. I try to study. It sort of works. I fall asleep again. I listen to more Latin music. I try to study. I walk outside in my slippers (I'm wearing clothes already, hoping that somehow being clothed will equate to academic motivation. It didn't.) to relieve my mounting insanity. The door closes behind me. I stand. I breathe. I turn to go inside. I can't believe myself. I stand about, trying to open the door, yet again, in vain. I run over to apartment 27, and no one is home. I have no phone, again. I have no car, again. I have no computer, no books, no nothing. There is a kind young man fertilizing the lawns of the apartment complex, and I ask to borrow his phone. My roommate answers, sounding confused. She tells me she will shoot me if I tell her I got locked out again. I'm glad she has no gun. She, fortunately enough, had not yet gone to the testing center to take her test and turn off her phone. So she said she would be home in approximately 20 minutes. Excellent. I have no shoes, no jacket, no one in the apartment complex I know who's home. So what do I do? What anyone does in that situation. Go lie on the sidewalk in the sun, and take a quasi-nap. Which I did. And I am fairly certain that the people who hear me sing constantly (and loudly), watch me carry/pull around my giant backpack, watch me jump down the stairs, listen to me talk to myself, and find me lying on the sidewalk in the middle of the morning in my slippers, think I'm freaking insane. Which I might be. Anywho. Roommate let me in, I ate food, changed out of my dirty sweater (I'd been lying on the ground in it for 20 minutes or so), and prepared myself to leave. And now, here I am again, trying to study, but not. The predication for the end of the story goes like this:
I get no studying done. I go to calculus for the last 15 minutes so I can take a quiz. I go to work, where frustration and inefficiency abound. Then I rush to the testing center to take the chemistry test, where I spend three hours furiously trying to not fail. But then I do. And then I go home, knowing that I deserve every percent I got wrong, and instead of going to bed like I should, play solitaire for hours on end and listen to Latin music. Then wake up and hate myself the rest of the week. Good thing I don't eat cake.
Dear Reader, I love you, and I hope your day is going well :)
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