I’ve failed at many things but the only one that I know of that is documented is a blazing red “F” next to Accounting 1100 amidst all the As and Bs on my college transcript. I’m actually a bit proud of that F because it was the source of a great lesson for me. I received the failing grade and then woke up the next morning. The world had not ended, the sky had not fallen and I still had all my teeth and hair. It taught this annoying straight A earning, Valedictorian type not to take herself so dang seriously and that failing once in a while is good for the character. And then I got smart again real quick and realized that I needed to marry an accountant. And so I did. 🙂 I keed I keed. That’s not why I married The Accountant of course, but do you sense the irony?
I’m not sure why I’m writing this except to try and keep a sense of perspective and not lose my head over this final paper that is sucking the life out of me right now and happens to make up 30% of my grade. As I feared, the prof emailed me back and basically said “yep, I see that you are having trouble with this paper, call me”. Not good people, not good. I have one week to pull this together and I have no paper topic and no sense of what to pull out of my butt for a new one which seems to be the only solution at this point. What to do? I’m considering faking my own death, or at least hospitalization, blaming the Bean in some way, or simply disappearing from this particular college campus and not returning to the two class sessions I have left to attend. Because running away is always the answer isn’t it? Or at least sleeping until the problem goes away.
Rock on. Or not.
Coming later this week – pictures of The Accountant on the Rroof. No fiddle involved.
