The bitter taste of morning

This morning my least favorite class is starting an hour early, forcing me to endure its inanity for an extra hour, earlier in the morning, when everything is inherently worse.

Last night I was an idiot and set my alarm for PM instead of AM. Which is usually fine, as my bio clock generally gets me up on time for a 10pm class. It does not, however, get me up on time for a 9am class. I rolled over at 8am, went gee I still have time, rolled back, remembered I had to be up an hour early today, and torpedoed out of bed. I ran around my apartment like a madwoman. I tried to brush my teeth and do my hair at the same time, I threw random clothes on my back, and generally did evrything in my power to get out the door on time. I even missed breakfast, and I love breakfast. My frantic efforts paid off, the bus pulled up just in time for me to sprint on, and despite it all, I showed up on time.

Guess who still isn't here, almost AN HOUR after class was supposed to start? Oh, just the professor, the person who made us show up early to begin with. Not that I'm bitter or anything.

If she ever does show up, I feel perfectly justified using the first hour of her actually teaching to blog, and just generally I refuse to do anything until we get a break and I can get some breakfast.

Gee, I can already tell that today is going to be just super.

(This comic barely relates to the post, but Calvin and Hobbes do make me feel a little better)