Fuck.
I shoved my belongings into a locker and indulged in a temper tantrum, jumping up and down angrily until I felt foolish enough to stomp into the library office to get a diet soda. Yuri swiveled at her desk and said "Hi!", surprising me enough to spit cola down my front. She got to be my victim to unload my problems on:
Mike was supposed to drive me to work from the Highland Games, but hadn't been bothered to get out of bed in time (he works nights and sleeps during the day).
My mother had to abandon the tea tent and lose her nice parking spot in order to drop me off (and no, I couldn't take her car, she needed it for loading purposes later on).
I decided it was foolish to abandon my yearly fish-and-chips tradition and made myself sick with an entire day's worth of grease in one sitting; furthermore, I was unable to throw up even though I felt nauseous because I have an iron stomach and a fear of slipping down the slope into an eating disorder.
I brought my notebook and current illustration to work; but forgot my textbook and pencils, rendering them useless.
I forgot my nice fuzzy jacket in the tea tent and forgot to pack a change of clothes, so I had to freeze in my inappropriate work attire.
Rar.
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