A Series of Error in Judgement

So basically, this is my week: Error 1. On Tuesday I am still writing a paper that was due last Friday. At 4:40pm I dash out of the house to get to my 6:30 Driver's Ed class in Bonavista. (No, it doesn't take 2 hours to get there on city transit...it takes 1 1/2 hours.) I was supposed to meet my new friend (awe, new friends) a half hour before class so we could study for the written final. Thanks to rush hour c-train availability and some quick walking, I manage to make it there by 6:00. I am quite proud of my accomplishment, despite the fact that the instructor has not yet opened the door to let people in. A couple students are waiting around outside; however, Julie (new friend) is not among them. I don't really recognise the others, but then, I'm not the most observant of girls so maybe they've been in the class the whole time and I've just always ignored them. I shrug and sit down outside to read I am a Palestinian Christian while I wait for Patricia the instructor to show up. More students arrive. I glance up at them. Hmmm, they don't look very familiar either. I might be having a low blood sugar- that always makes everything seem strange. I check my blood sugar. It looks ok. Hey! It's 6:22! Where the deuce is Patricia? Where's Julie, for that matter? Is the test not until next week? I check my day timer. Nope, it's written right there: "Tuesday- Driver's Ed, meet Julie @ 6 to study" I go back to my reading. Who are those people? Wait a second...I was freaking out this morning b/c I was supposed to get my paper in today so it would only be counted as 1 day late instead of 2...it's not Tuesday! It's Monday! I pretend to read my book some more as still more Driver's Ed students come to wait outside the door and stare at the strange girl who doesn't know what day it is, then flee for the train station. That would be error 2. Although I work on the paper until midnight, I do not finish it. Error 3: Rather than go to bed, I decide to stay up an hour more and do still more unreliable online psychological quizzes until 1 am. I will not tell you the dubious results of my IQ test. Rather fried, but knowing my propensity to forget about things I am supposed to be doing first thing in the morning, I wisely check the calandar before I go to bed. Dr.'s appointment at 9:15 am. Let's see, that will take me about 2 hours by city transit; therefore, I should leave by 7 and get up by 6. I even leave myself a note about bringing the appropriate supplies for paper writing at school so that I will not have to come all the way home in between the appointment and the real Driver's ed. Error 4: On Tuesday I am still writing a paper that was due last Friday. Hooray, I make out of the house by 7 as planned! I get on the c-train and realize that I forgot to call city transit and ask how to get from the station to my dr's office. Oh well. I have pretty good photographic memory- I remember where the bus stop is. I do remember where the bus stop is. I walk over to it. There are 4 bus numbers posted there. Dang, don't remember that part. Stupid fuzzy visual memories. Is it the 20 or the 80? 20 sounds right- I'll just go with that. The 20 comes soon after and I confidently step on and start reading. After a while I look up to where we are. Aha, Heritage Park is just ahead. Oh good, then this is definitely the right bus. Right? Why are we turning right? I have to go left, darn it. Blast it all, now I'm stuck on a bus going the wrong way down a highway in ridiculously thick rush hour traffick to an unknown destination. I pull the stop cord and wait anxiously to see where the next stop is: Rocky view hospital. Well, I suppose that's not so bad. No time to wait for another mystery bus though- I'll hike it over. Options? Wander through that residential area and possibly get lost; cross the pedestrian overpass and risk getting lost in another residential area; or jump over that low metal barrier and walk beside the high way. I choose the latter. So fascinated am I by how rocky the ground is here that I fail to notice the dense shrubbery lining the cement wall which suddenly pops up, blocking my path beside the highway. I don't remember this from the busride. I try to look through the thick growth to see how long it lasts. The plants are just too thick. I glance back the way I have come. Well, it can't be that far. With the frozen traffic watching in fascination, I climb up on the barricade and start pushing my way through the shrubberies. It is quite dusty in here, but not so bad over all. I have to bend the trunks a little to get between the shrubs and the wall, but my progress isn't too bad. Wow, this is actually quite long and I still can't see the end ahead. All well, I must be at least half-way through now. It would probably take me just as long to go back as it would to go forward. I ignore the niggling worry that I might run into another cement wall on the other end. I am surprised to find that I am rather enjoying myself, even though it is quite obvious that I will never make it to my appointment on time now. But hey, at least I made the mistake of believing it was going to be wet and rainy today: I'm wearing my indescructible pleather coat and a pair of jeans, which are taking the worst of the brunt of my bushwacking for my limbs' skin. Dang, I am so stuck. This tree-like thing is not moving and I can't breath between it and the wall. What are you talking about? You can't get stuck in here. No one would find you for days. Who's going to think, "Hey, I'll bet Faye is stuck between a shrub and a cement wall along the highway that passes the Rockyview hospital"? And if you can't see the cars on the road right beside you, how are they going to see you to call EMS to come rescue you from a bush? God? Is that you being facetious and sardonic? Yes, now hurry up and wiggle before I start laughing so hard some poor African hunter magically appears on top of the empire state building. I grunt like Angelina Joli in Tomb Raider and I am free to breath again. Not free in the more general sense, though. My back pack is stuck. Whose idea was it to pack that thing with 5 text books, 2 meals, a pencil case, a phone directory, an agenda, snacks, a driver's manual and handbook, and various medical supplies, anyway?! Um, that would be me. So anyways, apparently if I brace one shoulder against a cement pillar and the other arm against the tree trunk, I can bend the tree long enough to get my back pack out. That was fun. Two shrub/tree things later, I find yet another impasse. There is a tree/bush thing too thick and wide to go through anywhere...except maybe right along the ground beside the wall. Stuck again. Bloody backpack. I take it off and shove it through the opening first, then follow after, wriggling on my belly. Just 5 shrubberies later, I am out on the other side and happily walking along the smooth grass beside the orchards close to heritage park. Amazingly, I actually make it to my appointment only a minute late. The nice receptionist leads me into a room right away and tells me the dr. will be with me in a few minutes. Oh good, I have a few moments to clean up. Where to start? Error 5: Most logical people would probably start by pulling the many sticks, yellow flowers, pieces of grass and leaves out of their hair, but I'm too smart for that. I wouldn't want to get my hair dirty with my very dusty/sweaty hands, so I wash my hands first; then, when mud starts trickling down my forearms, I expand my energies to encompass my arms up the elbows as well. Working quickly, I begin plucking foliage samples out of my hair. Tap, tap, tap. Who the deuce is that? Ooooooh. That would be Dr. Wilmot, my real Dr.'s associate, who I knew would be giving me my booster hepatitus shot, but whom I've always foolishly assumed to be a male (error 6). And that would be when I suddenly notice the large pile of dust, leaves, flowers, and twigs that had accumulated on the seat of the chair I was supposed to sit down in to recieve said shot. Suavely waiting until the nice. crisply dressed Dr. glances down to consult her clipboard, I smoothly brush off the pile of organic matter onto the marble tiled floor and kick it under the chair. She kindly smiles at me and avoids staring at my mud encrusted jeans or the dirt smudged jacket and backpack on the floor beside me as she loads up the harpoon, which, as it turns out, I didn't really need anyway because once you take the miserable things (all 3 of them) once you're set for life and I distinctly recall going through this torture before in elementary...so basically I've just spent $280 on potential murder weapons that could have gone instead to the digital camera I want to buy prior to leaving for my Israel trip (error 7). All well, I'm committed now. I go home and shower and work on my paper some more. Driver's Ed is fun. Not only do I pass the test, but Julie and I get to play hacky-sack with Julie's stollen bracelet out in the road during breaks. Out of nowhere, we end up talking about faith, Christ, the afterlife, and forgiveness. Julie invites me to come out for her 3 day birthday party at a round of bars and a bbq at her house on the 3rd day. Alas, I am working during the bbq so that leaves me only the bars to choose from. I'm not quite sure how I feel about my acceptance of her invitation. On the one hand, I really hate bars. I hate the smoke associated with them, I hate the smell of alcohol and sweaty bodies, I hate being packed into a small space with many, many people I do not know who are studiously comparing my body to others, I hate a lot of the drunken sexual crap that goes on in bars. On the other hand, I really hate being a good stereotypical white Christian bubble girl who only accepts people on her terms in her space and therefore has only other Christians for friends. Christ said, "GO and preach the gospel to the nations", he did not say, "WAIT for the nations to come ask if you know the meaning of life". Maybe I'll convince one of my more adventurous friends to come along with me. Anyways, back to a series of error in judgement...I do manage to finish and email my paper by midnight. I was feeling quite relieved and proud until the next morning when I go to work and my conscientios boss asks, "So you have, what 2, 2 1/2 weeks left until you leave now?" CRAP. Is it really that short? I have another paper due before I leave that's supposed to be double the length of this one that I haven't even started yet! I haven't bought any of the supplies I'm supposed to be taking with me! I haven't started regularly spending time with God yet in preparation for any spiritual or physical attacks headed my way. I can't find the passport photos I was told I would need in addition to my passport! I haven't completed even half the required reading! I haven't lost any weight to fit into my swimsuit again! (errors 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, and possibly 15, but not necessarily in that respective order). AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sunday: Caroline gives me a shake (actually it was a hug and a prayer for peace). You're right, God. I was wrong to despair (error x). I know you're coming with me. And you're right: it is a fun game (see Graham Cooke, Being With God- The Language of God). Oh yeah, and my indestructible pleather jacket? Not quite so indestructible.