When Monday happened, I was panicking because I thought that I was to have my Anthropology midterm at 2 pm that day. I walked into class in a semi-fit, only to find out that it was, in fact, not until the following Monday, April 8th. Which meant that I had another week to study and panic, alternately and at even intervals. Monday continued with me going to creative writing class at seven and talking about poetry for way too long, in a room full of a bunch of other lunatics like myself, otherwise knows as English majors.
After Monday, the world's most amazing thing happened. It was called Tuesday. I took a Psychology test (which I managed to get a B on even though I only got a 55 - YAY curved grades). I also went to a super-productive Editors' meeting here at the Beacon. Then I studied Anthropology.
Wednesday afternoon I was walking back from some class or other (I believe it was Anthropology - are we sensing a pattern woven through my week?), and no sooner had I stepped out the door of the Science Building when the sky opened up and God decided to dump thirty-two feet of rain on my head. Well, ok, it was a mini-thunderstorm. So I walked back to my building, checked my mail, and found a little yellow slip of paper telling me that I had a package. So I went to the Hillside office to get my package, which a giant, GIANT brown box of Doom. Then I proceeded to climb two flights of stairs and manage to unlock the door to my shoebox with a giant brown box in my hands, a bookbag on one shoulder, my ID card tucked behind one ear and my keys dangling from my mouth. I somehow managed to get myself into my shoebox, (dripping wet) at which point I promptly stepped in the door and kicked over the conveniently placed garbage can that the props manager had placed there only moments before, spilling orange soda cans all over the floor (which makes a really cool series of CLANK noises, by the way). That was fun.
My Week of Joy continued Thursday, when I decided to go up to the Financial Aid office. Let me attempt the short version of this one. A week or two ago I received a little pink sheet of paper from the Powers That Be asking about money information. So I went over to the Office of the Money Gods originally, asking them how, exactly, to fill out this form. They told me I didn't have to fill it out, that I could just attach a copy of my taxes and my parent's taxes, and turn them in with the form. So I called up my mommy and demanded that she mail me the taxes, since I almost never go home. I received the taxes this week (at the same time I received the giant brown box of Doom). So Thursday, I went back to the Powers that Be with the pink form and the taxes. They told me that I needed to have my mommy sign the pink form. Of course! How did I not see that coming? Happy Thursday.
Thus bringing me (and all my faithful readers) to Friday night. I've been running around crazy all week studying and getting rained on and such, and so have not had time to write a Horror Stories until now. And all the times that I've yelled at my writers to meet their Thursday at five deadlines (which WILL be changed to Wednesday at two next semester, come hell or high water), and sent them nasty reminder emails, have come back to haunt me. I haven't met my own deadline, so now I have to go back and yell at myself for not meeting my deadline. When I told my staff writers this, they seemed to take great pleasure in all glaring at me simultaneously and yelling, "YOU - Write Something!!!"