(Wait there is a light, there is a fire.)
My day began with a spark and ended with the whole damn forest ablaze. Smoky the Bear would not be proud of me, neither would Girl Scouts...or even 4H for that matter.
Upon walking into my kitchen around 6.30 a.m. this morning to make myself breakfast, I crossed paths with the notorious head of the house. My dad. I decided to attempt a new approach towards the dreaded early meal time. So I began with "Oh my gosh, dad guess what was really creepy?" (Not the most intelligent of starts, but I've produced worse)
I went on to describe my near-stroke encounter with a reflection of my dog's paw which happened to look like a white object scratching at the door from outside in the near pitch black dawn. Of course, as I normally do, I added details to make the story more suspenseful instead of flat out telling the listener what it was that almost made me pee my pants.
This was of course not appreciated by my newsprint, black-and-white, flat-language-loving paternal figure. I abruptly treated to a long lecture about my lack of tact when telling stories. I apparently bore him (as close as parents who don't know emotion get) to tears.
Surprise, surprise.
The only way one could satisfy his ear drums would be to wave a picture of a deer in front of his face and repeat the mantra, "forest, squirril, trees, dirt, tractor, deer hunting!"
Anyways, from there my day got worse:
The breakdown shall go like this--->
1st: Found out I really did not know how to factor polynomials until today.
2nd: Bombed stupid poetry test, (note: test was not stupid, if it had personality, I'm sure it would be rather astute actually)
3rd: Recieved news that I tanked (haha, all of these military style verbs) previous essay on arguing which I previously thought I might excel at.
4th: French class.
5th: Had to come home and bore my poor, poor father again with my lack of style and ineptitude in the ways of (and I quote) "casual conversation".
On the bright side, I think my outfit was nice.
2 comments:
you poor girl. I have to say that I laughed at about all of that. Especially the outdoor mantra. Did he really complain about your story-telling abilities?
I can help you with your math if maternal figure can get you here ... or something.
Thanks, and if mom shall let me, I will most definitely do that. Tutoring once a week does not seem to be enough. although it has helped me raise my grade from a 48 to a 67....
almost passing.
Post a Comment