Mostly Bad Decisions, part a million

I skipped my first class last night.

Don't worry, Mom and Dad -- I feel really guilty about it! AND I have excellent and manifold excuses: It was Teaching of Reading, and I hadn't done the reading, and I didn't think I could look at one of my professor's crazy muumuu-and-leggings get-ups with a straight face, and I was super tired from driving to Virginia, having a homecoming throwdown (which mostly involved me yelling at undergrads for not knowing how to play drinking games) and driving back within a 40-hourish span. Oh, also, I'd been so busy homecoming-ing, I hadn't exactly finished my midterm paper.

How did I become this person? I never just DON'T DO something. In fact, I've been doing too many things all semester. I have been diligently attending class - sharing my feelings upon request, taking incomprehensible notes on reading theory, riding the 1, 2 AND F trains to school and back again. I'm going to work study in the admissions office (as cheerfully bizarre an experience as I had hoped). I DO things - that's what I do, especially when I'm paying $568 per second to do said things.

But Monday, class time happened, and, after being at work in the admissions office all day I still had 2 pages to go on the paper. I ended up hanging out with Miz Deb in admissions 40 minutes past the start of class to finish it. By the time we printed the darn thing, I had decided that my wisest course of action would be to just run it up to the professor's office, slide it under her door, and sneak away pretending that it had been on time (For those of you concerned about my grades, please remember - my professor is the type of person who wears muumuus and leggings. Deadlines are more like...guidelines for her. I hope.).

I don't like living like this! The sneaking! The fibbing! The hanging out in the admissions office after even my peppy boss leaves! The few extra hours of free time on Monday night are just not worth it.