Just a Day in the Life of a University Freshmom
Why, yes, I believe I WILL have a Thorazine drip, please!
You're 18 years old and a freshman in college. You're close(ish) to home but far enough away that you're establishing your own life. You're spreading your wings, finding your feet, establishing your stride, learning to brass up and be a man.
One day, you wake up to see a completely flat tire on your car. It's not a little low; it's not a slow leak. This tire is flatter than a gander's arch. This dismal occurrence happens to coincide with the due date for a huuuuuuuuuuge English assignment that you have to turn in at 4:00. You're close to the end, but you want to do a little bit more polishing before the professor sees it. That's what today was for--proofreading, perfecting, primping.
You realize you have to at least address the flat tire, so you and two buddies drag yourselves out in the dusty, filthy, dirty parking lot to put on the spare. This is your first rodeo of that sort. Your buddies have a little more experience, but not much. You get the spare on and drive into town, to Discount Tires.
Because you haven't checked your e-mail, you're unaware that your mother has also interrupted HER day to call another tire shop in your area. But hey, what are mothers for. She LOVVVVVVVVVVVVVVES you and she'll do ANYTHING for you. And everybody knows she has nothing better to do. Make sure you cash in on that.
Mr. Discount Tires guy suggests you try to patch or plug the tire, and says he'll see if it can be done. He invites you to relax for a few minutes while he checks. Nervous, you wait. You wait and wait, watching precious English-composition minutes ticking away, holding your breath as the clock moves inexorably toward the start of class. Your essay is okay as is, but you're hungry. You want an A.
Mr. Discount Tires guy comes back to tell you that no, your tire can't be repaired. He shows you where the steel belt is showing through, and tells you a new tire is necessary. So you get an estimate for a new tire, along with the rotation and balancing package, and insurance for each tire. The tire guy says he'll do the installation for free if you buy the insurance. You call your mother at work to ask her opinion. Oddly, she seems to have something else going on besides full-time support of your needs, and she heartlessly and coldly tells you she'll discuss it with you tonight.
Next, you race back to campus, starving. Through charm alone--because "lunch" is officially over, you wangle your way into a burger and some hot wings. Sated, you return to your dorm, put the finishing touches on your English paper, and head for the shower. In a just, sane and rational world, your day would wind down peacefully, coasting to a happy (if imperfect) conclusion. Wouldn't it? Nope. Not if your friend Joe from down the hall just announced that he has LOST HIS SNAKE IN YOUR DESK CHAIR, it wouldn't! Mmmmmmmmmm-hmmmmmmmmmm. And this is why some species eat their own young.
One day, you wake up to see a completely flat tire on your car. It's not a little low; it's not a slow leak. This tire is flatter than a gander's arch. This dismal occurrence happens to coincide with the due date for a huuuuuuuuuuge English assignment that you have to turn in at 4:00. You're close to the end, but you want to do a little bit more polishing before the professor sees it. That's what today was for--proofreading, perfecting, primping.
You realize you have to at least address the flat tire, so you and two buddies drag yourselves out in the dusty, filthy, dirty parking lot to put on the spare. This is your first rodeo of that sort. Your buddies have a little more experience, but not much. You get the spare on and drive into town, to Discount Tires.
Because you haven't checked your e-mail, you're unaware that your mother has also interrupted HER day to call another tire shop in your area. But hey, what are mothers for. She LOVVVVVVVVVVVVVVES you and she'll do ANYTHING for you. And everybody knows she has nothing better to do. Make sure you cash in on that.
Mr. Discount Tires guy suggests you try to patch or plug the tire, and says he'll see if it can be done. He invites you to relax for a few minutes while he checks. Nervous, you wait. You wait and wait, watching precious English-composition minutes ticking away, holding your breath as the clock moves inexorably toward the start of class. Your essay is okay as is, but you're hungry. You want an A.
Mr. Discount Tires guy comes back to tell you that no, your tire can't be repaired. He shows you where the steel belt is showing through, and tells you a new tire is necessary. So you get an estimate for a new tire, along with the rotation and balancing package, and insurance for each tire. The tire guy says he'll do the installation for free if you buy the insurance. You call your mother at work to ask her opinion. Oddly, she seems to have something else going on besides full-time support of your needs, and she heartlessly and coldly tells you she'll discuss it with you tonight.
Next, you race back to campus, starving. Through charm alone--because "lunch" is officially over, you wangle your way into a burger and some hot wings. Sated, you return to your dorm, put the finishing touches on your English paper, and head for the shower. In a just, sane and rational world, your day would wind down peacefully, coasting to a happy (if imperfect) conclusion. Wouldn't it? Nope. Not if your friend Joe from down the hall just announced that he has LOST HIS SNAKE IN YOUR DESK CHAIR, it wouldn't! Mmmmmmmmmm-hmmmmmmmmmm. And this is why some species eat their own young.
posted by jillsifer | October 17, 2013
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