Can it be that I've dragged myself from my warm bed into the misery of early morning, missed one bus by about thirty seconds and am now about to sit through my Technical Writing class without breakfast? No, no. This must be a dream, or a hoax -- an imaginary story!
I feel like this is New Orleans and I've been zombified by some crazy lady in the swamp. Mama Cass should be playing on the soundtrack but all I've got is Tori Amos. I feel like a prole.