This Is The Exciting Life I Lead
I woke up this morning twenty minutes too late, twenty minutes being the amount of time needed to dry the underwear and socks that I somehow missed last night in the hasty transfer of garments from washer to dryer. I got dressed in about ten minutes. Doing anything while standing on a bed takes a little longer and is just slightly more disconcerting than doing it on firm ground. Probably. I left for school at approximately 7:15am, still enduring the chilly dampness of most-uncomfortable socks and underwear.
Seven of the eleven stoplights on the way to dear Sacred Heart turned yellow as I approached. I didn't stop at any of them. I mentioned this phenomenon, in passing, to a friend as we walked in from the parking lot, but she found it only mildly interesting.
I sat quietly through first block (Social Justice) and suffered musically through second (Chorus). Lunch was a Diet Vanilla Coke and black bean soup, which many say looks like vomit and won't touch. Fools! It's tastebud heroin.
Third block (Spanish) was slightly amusing. I sat next to a girl who looks just like me and did my hair like hers and we giggled. That took about 3 minutes; the tediosity of the remaining 87 was spent feigning attention and flipping inconspicuously through the March Cosmopolitan. In Biology my focus alternated between the unintelligible ramblings of everyone around me and the girl next to me, whose methodical picking at a green pear somehow disheartened me. Poor little pear.
(And now we know why Emily doesn't often write about her everyday life.)
Seven of the eleven stoplights on the way to dear Sacred Heart turned yellow as I approached. I didn't stop at any of them. I mentioned this phenomenon, in passing, to a friend as we walked in from the parking lot, but she found it only mildly interesting.
I sat quietly through first block (Social Justice) and suffered musically through second (Chorus). Lunch was a Diet Vanilla Coke and black bean soup, which many say looks like vomit and won't touch. Fools! It's tastebud heroin.
Third block (Spanish) was slightly amusing. I sat next to a girl who looks just like me and did my hair like hers and we giggled. That took about 3 minutes; the tediosity of the remaining 87 was spent feigning attention and flipping inconspicuously through the March Cosmopolitan. In Biology my focus alternated between the unintelligible ramblings of everyone around me and the girl next to me, whose methodical picking at a green pear somehow disheartened me. Poor little pear.
(And now we know why Emily doesn't often write about her everyday life.)