This week was a string of unfortunate mornings. The mid semester break must have affected my brain a little bit, it was only two weeks, but I'm ruined.
The first day back was meant to be a presentation of sorts, a debate about typography. I never thought drama would be incorporated into my design degree - to some people, it hasn't been. P just calls it 'role playing' and says it's weird. I didn't get much say in the matter, only 'participate in group debates or lose 20% of your grade'. My hands were tied.
Most of you most certainly will not care, unless you're amongst the likes of Matt.
The presentation was a little bit thrown together. I crafted a poster for the occasion, realising five minutes before we were on that I'd made a typo. Gosh. A spelling error in a subject based purely on type? Great start Megan, great start.
We were dressed in black, presenting a united front and channeling Beatrice's love for the simplistic. Of course, this was the morning that I decided to spill yoghurt down my front.
I cleaned this off, settling for a slightly damp dress rather than a costume change.
A minute later, I did the same thing with milk.
I amaze myself at my inability to learn from mistakes.
I thought that morning would be the best time to glue the heel of my shoe, a flapping piece of plastic that I was concerned may be a hinderance to the debate if I had to run at any time during the performance. My forward thinking was a waste of time, I exploded the tube of the glue all over my hands, shoe and carpet - my fear for the safety of the carpet resulting in the shoe being glued to my hand. By this stage I was wondering why bad things happen to good people...
Evidently I survived the morning, with minimal other accidents. It must be my month for Accident Megan - I forgot that it general works in cycles. I had a good run of a month or so with limited episodes, so it must be back on for a while.
I overslept yesterday morning. You know it's going to be a good day when you wake up swearing. Skipping breakfast, showers and sensible dressing. I thought I could get ready in ten minutes, run for the train and slip into class relatively unnoticed, albeit rather late. Running towards my class in shoes that made ridiculous amounts of clacking sounds on the staircase, I got halfway up the stairs before I realised that the class had stopped talking to peer over the railing to see who was making the racket.
My inconspicuous arrival was not quite as I'd hoped.
Here's to October being filled with mornings like these.