attack of the finals

Stumbling out of bed in the morning, with the realization that you're late for your final exam attacking you from all possible angles, is no fun. I didn't like it much either. My alarm hadn't gone off, and I was hideously, horribly late. At that very moment, my classmates were sitting bent over their papers, their little brains pounding away at the problems. And where was I? Running around my bathroom looking for my clothes, that's where I was.

In the end, I didn't have time to find anything to wear that matched or looked halfway sane. I would have missed the bus, and then I'd really be screwed. So I just grabbed the things closest to me - a oversized, grey sweater and snowman pajama bottoms. That's right: Snowman pajama bottoms. Through my window, I could see the bus moving steadily towards the bus stop, and I had to run for it. My hair was standing almost straight up, I was dressed like a freak, running down the street, shouting for the bus to "wait for me". In the hurry, I even forgot to put on shoes. It wasn't until I was sitting in one of the run-down seats that I realised that I was still wearing slippers...

I leaped off the bus like a deranged bullet and ran towards the college as fast as I could. Twice I fell flat on my face. Did you know that you could actually run and fall at the exact same time? You're head knows that it's heading for the concrete, but the legs don't have time to listen to that sort of pessimistic dribble, and they just keep on going. People were looking at me as if they were completely positive that I'd escaped from somewhere. In their heads, they were probably working out what they would say to the butterfly-net-men who would undoubtedly come looking for me.

Completely out of breath, soaking wet and absolutely filthy from stumbling around like I had, I finally arrived outside the auditoriom where the exam was being held. But the door was locked, and no amount of knocking or shouting could convince anyone to open it...

...And then I woke up.