I think I acquired an experience today that I shall forever be remembering as ‘the funnies thing to picture myself doing’. Complicated, I know. But envision this: I wake up. I am terrified, because I can remember fiddling with the time on the alarm clock, thus meaning I’ve ignored it and fallen back asleep for an unknown amount of time. I check the time and realise it’s half to eight, instead of quarter past six - the normal time to wake up. I rush up, cursing, because the day you’re supposed to perform in front of your school is just not the day to be late. I storm into my mother’s room and very vocally announce that I’m late. I run for the shower, hoping I’ll get to wash my hair, dismissing the vague wonder of how I’m going to dry it within ten minutes.
My mother gets up and I yell to see if she knows what the time is. She looks at the clock, sleepily and announces it’s half to six. I laugh, because I know how the hallway’s dark and she’s probably too sleepy to comprehend. She assures me that it is indeed half to six. I check. It is. Meaning not only that I wasn’t late, but that there was also 45 minutes of sweet sleep left.
Now, if I was a house-elf sitting in my bedroom, watching, I’d get quite a laugh to see myself suddenly jumping up and manically imagining I was late. I’d find it pretty hilarious. Especially since I’ve no idea what makes you do such things.
So you’d think I was a loonatic for the rest of the day? Not at all. In fact I managed to pull off a decent act, get complimented about it and my chemistry test and answer a few questions in the Lesson of Doom (still Estonian). But then, having come home, I realised I’d forgotten to take my Philosophy book off of (most likely) my locker or a cloakroom seat.
