After completing the arduous process of writing ten profound albeit convoluted (writing lucidly is for boring folk) pages on the historical analysis of Acts twenty-seven, I am wholly knackered. My deft ability of punctuating time will be tested with the following annoyances: memorizing some queer's poem and preparing an elaborate and eloquent presentation of the Beat generation; completing an eight page lab on sordid scientific extraneousness; catching up on like six mission journals; trying to organize handwritten notes in class because my friggin' laptop battery is moribund; order a new laptop battery; and prepare for my G test.
The latter is the ne plus ultra of aggravation. I successfully completed my driving test circa five years ago, why must I endure another? Has my driving adroitness lapsed in this five year frame? I despise my government, wasting my time. God willing, I will place an exclamation mark on this nuisance and move on with my life -- otherwise, I best get out my winter boats, as I'll be trotting through the snow wherever I go.
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