Got our midterms back from bio lab, and I began giggling uncontrollably when I saw I had passed – with a high B that may become an A, no less. I was so resigned to a D – if I was lucky – that I must have gone into some sort of nervous shock. Don’t worry though, I’m pretty sure I didn’t come off as insane. Just obnoxiously smug.

S’all good, tho’.

And now, I love the T.A. even more than I did before. I just want to bundle him up in blankets and feed him cookies and chocolate milk forever. And no, that isn’t supposed to be dirty at all. This was seriously the most leniently graded anything I’ve ever seen. Which is good for me, but damn, I hope his supervisor doesn’t check up on what he’s doing. Questions that should have been marked wrong were given half and quarter points instead. Hell, questions that were marked wrong were then amended to half points, as though he felt sorry for students suffering through an exam they obviously did not study for.

Then I wandered outside and saw it was raining thought “Oh, time for my car crash” because I get a ride with Patricia on tuesdays and Patricia is eighteen and, apparently, a real fan of speed regardless – I had the pleasure of discovering last week – the weather or driving conditions.

Patricia and I had a lovely conversation in the car.

“Damn,” she said as we passed the elementary school, “I hate school zones. I hate them, man.”

Of course she does. “Oh,” is what I said outloud.

“Last week I got a ticket here. I wasn’t even going that fast. These school zones are so stupid, you know? They make you go too slow!”

“Oh.” I said. And then added, “The police don’t have much to do around here. They give a lot of speeding tickets.” Which was true enough, and I gave her some slack because the speed limit was fifteen miles and pretty frustrating.

“I got a big-ass ticket.” She said.

“How fast were you going?”

“Like twenty miles.”

Hmm.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t even going that fast. I was going like twenty-eight miles.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it sucks. I’m always getting tickets. I’ve gotten like, three tickets before, you know? Always for speeding.” I was shocked, obviously. After all, we had only nearly-died five times in the three times I’ve driven with her.

“The thing is,” she continued as we turned onto the main street, a twelve lane monstrosity, “I hate driving. You know?” I don’t have a driver’s licence, so I really don’t, but let her go on, “I hate it, man. Like, it makes me angry. Seriously, I get, like, serious road rage.”

“People don’t go fast enough?” I guessed.

“Yeah! Like, I just want to get where I’m going, you know?”

And then she began texting someone. So I just watched the rain beat on the windshield for a while.

In other news, I got a call back today from that store I’d been debating applying to – I sent the resume yesterday. I was in class and missed the call though. There was no message. And no email. I’m not sure I like how quickly they got back to me; I need time, people! There’s supposed to be at least a day or two of silence so I can wonder whether I had the wrong address, whether they had thrown my resume in the (virtual) trash and would never call ever, ect.. Whatevs. I’ll make a note to dress decently tomorrow in case I have to drop by or something. And I’m reminded again why I hate working. If only I didn’t love money so much.

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