The Amazing Adventures of College Girl #2

Some stories end with a moral. This story begins with one: never leave leftover lunch in your bedroom. If you must leave leftover lunch in your bedroom, be sure that it does not become covered by a sweatshirt and forgotten for a week. Perhaps you can guess the outcome.

I was putting my clothes away. It was nighttime, and the room was dimly lit but cozy. My room is small, but it was designed in such a way that everything echos. I could drop a pencil on the carpeted floor and it would sound like a 50lb boulder had fallen. 

Anyways, I was putting my clothes into the dresser when suddenly, a loud POP! bounded and rebounded off the walls of my room. It was as sudden and loud as a gunshot and quite unexpected, so I did the expected. I ran out of the room. 

We turned on every electrical gadget in my room, but no light bulbs, fuses, or batteries had exploded. I searched under the bed to see if someone had accidentally left a balloon there to keep the dust company. There was none. I could have let it go and forgotten it. But it was already night, and I would have to sleep in this room. What if more mysterious pops came along while I was sleeping?

Then something stirred in the back of my mind. I remembered that day that a salad had been packed in an airtight container and stuck into my lunch. I also remembered that I had forgotten a fork that day, so the salad was never eaten. And I think it was on my desk. 

Because my room is so small, I made it a rule that everything had to be neat and tidy except for the top of my desk. Thus, if anything happens to get left on the floor, it is instantly added to the pile on my desktop. Probably not a good idea. But I diverge. 

After digging through textbooks, socks, hair products, candy bar wrappers, and old receipts, I found the salad - the decayed salad. The container it had been in was open, and the lid was sagged outward, evidence of high pressure for a couple days. Funny fact about salad; it releases gases as it decays, and gases have enough pressure to pop off lids. 

This is where I would express the moral of the story, but I already did that. Now excuse me as I dig out the other leftovers lurking on my desk....

 

Cyclomen Haiku

Pink petals in bloom
Butter-fly delicacy
Unparalleled

The Amazing Adventures of College Girl

Background: My calculus class starts at 2:00 pm and is two hours long. Most classes are only one hour long, so at 3:00, halfway through class, the hallway outside is full of chatter and footsteps. And one more thing you need to know: my watch is is broken.

I had my first calculus test of the semester, and naturally, my instructor decided to make it two hours long. The test was 10 problems long, and I was working at a nice even pace. Suddenly, a loud chatter filled the hall, and I knew it was 3:00. An hour had sped by extremely fast, and I only had an hour to finish. My hand took off like a rocket, and my pencil rushed over the pages of the test, hoping to finish in time. 

Finally, I sighed with relief, convinced I had finished just a couple minutes early. I turned in my test, and walked out into the hall, where a large clock was fixed to the wall. It was 2:45. I had taken a 2-hr test in 45 minutes because I thought I was running out of time.

Moral of story: always fix your watch.