Frustration

As nice as it is to see that the # of messages (1166) promises two IB sevens, it is getting boring... So, I hope this puts a smile on someone's face.

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You hop around helplessly in the center of the room. It is of vital importance that you find a way to shove this folder currently slipping out of your tightly-clenched right-hand fingers into your bag. An easy task; so an uninformed minion would suppose. Just try doing it. Try shoving a folder into your backpack amidst a sea of project-bedecked furniture, while you are traipsing through the sun-filled living room with not a clean, textbook-free surface in sight, with a phone in your left hand and with an apple in your mouth – for safekeeping. Try it. As a matter of fact, that is precisely what you are trying to do. Did your thought just get away from you in that run-on sentence? It most justifiably has.

A shove of the folder inevitably makes the spirit of stealthy backpack shut its stubborn self and collapse in a resentful heap onto the floor. Great. Now the useless scholarly sack won’t welcome the folder unless you pry it open with a lion’s claw. In your frustration, you bite down harder on the apple. Another grinding of teeth and you will have bitten off a piece, and the apple will have fallen on the floor. You relinquish your grip on the folder in a justifiable attempt to protect the food, snatching the apple from your jaws just in time. The fickle folder clatters to the floor, spewing its contents all over your folded-up backpack. The clock rings eight, its din drowned by the sounds of the coveted 8-o’clock transportation rounding the corner down the street.

Great. You’ve missed your bus.