I woke up feeling completely shriveled and slightly hung over. My entire outfit from the night before (boots and all) clung onto my body, bunched in all the wrong places from when I tossed and turned from the ineluctable discomfort caused by excessive intoxication.
I am a terrible student. I had made plans to study this weekend, but accomplished none of the readings or work problems I had set my heart to do. Instead, I had wine and home made ceviche--which, by the way, is now one of my favorite dishes--followed by a few games of jumbling tower and an excursion to A's dancesport competition(followed by the after party). But this is not to say that I didn't absolutely love every minute of this weekend. On Friday, I spent quality time with my housemates discussing our school-related woes (mainly mine) while consuming an impressive amount of wine. I was beyond ecstatic to see A dance with the formation team on Saturday, and even more so when he received the trophy for 1st place with M. Socializing and talking to strange boys in fitted overalls at the party was also quite fun. It's just that paying for the consequences of my own decisions has never been easy for me.
At this point I have given up on the possibility of getting any studying done, which throws tomorrow's organic chemistry quiz out the window. My textbook has been open on the same page all day, conveniently functioning as a place mat and a way to keep cookie crumbs from falling in between the tiles of our dining table.
Oh yes, cookies. I've had enough of these things to satisfy even the cookie monster. Thanks, girl scouts.
This is where I surrender and begin looking for a tutor. I wonder what kind of selfless human being is willing to sacrifice their time to such a hopeless case as myself.