Ms. Sarah.

I find myself dragging my feet this morning.

Apparently the 401 comes by my house every fifteen minutes, except, of course, at 9:00, when I most desperately wished it would. So, this morning, I diagnosed myself with hypothermia and pneumonia. I missed the 8:45 bus that I originally wanted, showing up at 8:48. No big deal, they come every fifteen minutes. Aha! Not so, my friend. Not today anyway. Forty minutes and countless profanities later, my large white horse pulls up. It's now 9:32. Two minutes after the start of Music 100. We show up at the transit centre at about 9:38. The next bus to Mac-Daddy is sittin', waitin', wishin' there, ready to go. Of course, it doesn't leave for another 10 or 15. Eventually, I find myself crossing the walk in front of school, the large face of the clock glaring down at me, a little smirk, telling me it's 10:16, more than halfway through Charlene's class.

Oh well.

On a positive note, I was on the bus today with Sarah Prins, a girl I went to school with all the way 'till high school. She now looks like her mom.