Labor Day weekend Friday started off on a low note.
The night before I set my alarm for pm instead of am. It was only thanks to my roommate washing her dishes that I woke up roughly 25 minutes prior to the start of class. (For reference, I usually leave my apartment 30 minutes prior to the start of my classes so that I can be there at least ten minutes early.) While freaking out, I quickly (and at sub-dentist-approved-level) brushed my teeth. Then, I frantically collected my Greek yogurt, squirted in some honey, and added some Ma'cha. (remainder rated PG-13 for some blood)
I reached for my spoon on the drying mat, and proceeded to roll my pinky against the blade of my vegetable knife. Initially, I had hoped that it was just a light cut since there was no bleeding. Then I squeezed. The blood began to drip out. Several minutes later, I was finally able to exit my apartment with a washed, antibiotic creamed, and bandaged finger. Some speed walking later, I arrived 5 minutes late to class, sweaty, panting, and spewing apologies. The tutor and the rest of my PBL (problem-based learning) group were fortunately quite understanding, and the learning proceeded normally.
However, this type of morning was so jarring compared to my normal routine of being awake for at least one hour prior to starting class that I couldn't focus as well during the later lecture hours. Not to mention, I was very much not in the right frame of mind to do my normal Friday afternoon review.
Therefore, I took the bus to undergo some therapy at Westfield Century City. A few hours of wondering in and out of stores with (not-so-great) sales left me much happier and in possession of a nice autumn/winter professional skirt.
The night before I set my alarm for pm instead of am. It was only thanks to my roommate washing her dishes that I woke up roughly 25 minutes prior to the start of class. (For reference, I usually leave my apartment 30 minutes prior to the start of my classes so that I can be there at least ten minutes early.) While freaking out, I quickly (and at sub-dentist-approved-level) brushed my teeth. Then, I frantically collected my Greek yogurt, squirted in some honey, and added some Ma'cha. (remainder rated PG-13 for some blood)
I reached for my spoon on the drying mat, and proceeded to roll my pinky against the blade of my vegetable knife. Initially, I had hoped that it was just a light cut since there was no bleeding. Then I squeezed. The blood began to drip out. Several minutes later, I was finally able to exit my apartment with a washed, antibiotic creamed, and bandaged finger. Some speed walking later, I arrived 5 minutes late to class, sweaty, panting, and spewing apologies. The tutor and the rest of my PBL (problem-based learning) group were fortunately quite understanding, and the learning proceeded normally.
However, this type of morning was so jarring compared to my normal routine of being awake for at least one hour prior to starting class that I couldn't focus as well during the later lecture hours. Not to mention, I was very much not in the right frame of mind to do my normal Friday afternoon review.
Therefore, I took the bus to undergo some therapy at Westfield Century City. A few hours of wondering in and out of stores with (not-so-great) sales left me much happier and in possession of a nice autumn/winter professional skirt.
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| Does this just say: "Trust me, I'm a doctor." (But not the Doctor) |
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