It is always difficult to do homework, but more so whenever you feel like dying.
Well, at least, that’s what I discovered this last weekend. I do not believe I’ve ever had a minor cold stay on quite as long as one I had just a few days ago. It started out like many things do:
- I feel sick; my stomach hurts; I barely got 5 minutes of sleep because all I could feel was my throat getting tighter and my nose filled with bad things. My grandmother forces me to go to school anyway, because I have some test or something I have to do.
- The next day, I feel just as sick, and now wish I was dead, because I know there’s no chance I can stay home from school, inasmuch as I have a PowerPoint presentation to do, and if I don’t do it, my grandmother will nag at me all day if she hears a peep out of me, because that means I am still capable of breathing and intelligible thought and therefore could have went to school. I almost consider staying home anyway, but find out that tomorrow it’s going to snow.
- It snows, keeping me out of school on Valentine’s Day. My grandmother tells me I have to go to school the next day.
- I decide to stay home from school the next day. I wake up to my grandmother in a huff, and she refuses to speak with me until 3:00 PM the next day.
So, yes, my grandmother can be a handful. But, in her defense, there are more painful and difficult things to deal with, such as the act of stuffing live ferrets down your pants. However, nobody does this, except in Wales, I think, but I don’t think you can trust people that would name their land after a fat ugly fish and then not even get the name spelled correctly.
This week, of course, I’ve worked extra hard to finish up the homework I slacked on last weekend, by doing things such as, for example, uh, writing this post. My grandmother, of course, is thrilled. Even though I still choose to stay up every night until approximately 11:30 PM, which I discovered is as soon as I can go to sleep without being restless all night long and eventually screaming and throwing my alarm clock against the wall. And, of course, when my grandmother is happy, I am happy, because it is less of a chance that I will wake up the next morning dead.
Death by Nagging.