I hate change. I know it’s necessary, so I deal with it as best I can, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still hate it.
We got our schedule cards on Friday. I’m to fill it out with the classes I’m choosing to take next year and turn it in by next week. Basically, I have until February 6th to decide what I’m going to do in August.
I can barely plan ahead for a couple of hours (i.e. dinner), let alone months.
I don’t understand why this schedule business stresses me out so much. Like, I’ve done the exact same thing twice before.
Me: There just aren’t any classes I can take.
Mom: It would help if you figured out what you’re going to do first. What are you going to be?
Me: *despondently stares into distance*
Mom: Be a dentist. You could take care of my teeth.
Mom: Lawyer? You could represent me for free.
Mom: Business? You could—
Mom: This is useless. (read: You’re useless. )
Me: N—keep going. We might be onto something here.
Me: Maybe we can process-of-elimination this. Go about it the other way. I’ll jot down all the careers I don’t want and we’re bound to run into something I’m not completely ambivalent about.
Mom: That sounds like a lot of work.
Me: *laughs uncontrollably*
Me: It IS a lot of work! We’re listing careers. A lot of careers. A lot of… work.
Mom: *stands up*
Me: Hahah—hey! Mom. Mom! Wait, where are you going? You can’t just leave me here. I’m your favorite child! The light of your life!
Mom: … I need a break.