I’m Always Late

So this morning I woke up at 7:59. I have class at eight.

Upon awaking and looking up at my alarm clock, I panicked. I jumped out of bed, carefully, so as to avoid banging my head into the top bunk (yes I sleep on a bunk bed), and scampered to my closet. Then I proceeded to shimmy dance into yesterday’s jeans and pulled a t-shirt over my head. Then I grabbed my toothbrush, squeezed some of that green minty goodness on my brush and rammed it into my mouth as I entered the bathroom, scrunchy in hand, poised to pull my hair into something more manageable. After brushing and rinsing out my mouth, I slipped into my brown moccasins, grabbed my backpack and hobbled off to class.

About half-way to class, I realized that if I didn’t find myself a bathroom–and quick–my bladder would probably explode with the force of a small atomic bomb. Needless to say I opted to NOT subject my fellow classmates to that.

And that’s why I was twenty minutes late to class. 


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