At Least I Wasn't in My Underwear

You know those nightmares that people are always supposedly having, where they're at school taking a really hard test and then suddenly realize they're in their underwear? Well, I was wearing clothes, but otherwise, my day was pretty much like that. I was up til 5 last night trying to finish this paper, and as a result ended up sleeping until 12:30. I was supposed to be at work at 12. I called her and I guess that's ok, I just got her voicemail cause apparently she was out sick today. But then I had two hours to finish my paper before my class at 2:30, plus shower and all that other stuff i have to do in the morning that inevitably takes me like an hour. So I was writing, and I was like, ok, I think I'm done. And I looked down at the clock. 2:21. Awesome. So I rush to send it to myself via e-mail and then run to Gus' computer cause my printer's hooked up to it. password: i type the one it used to be. No luck. He must have changed it. I'm so screwed. So I grab my shit, run downstairs and out to my car. It's of course covered in snow. So I clean it off as fast as I can, drive like I'm on PCP, and promptly park illegally. I run upstairs to the history department office (where I was supposed to be working since noon) and grab the key to the history lab where there's a computer and printer I can theoretically use. I open the door. There's a CITS guy lounging in the chair. He looks up at me languidly, as I cry in anguish, "is it broken??!!" "Yup. Since Friday." I run like hell back to the office, and commandeer the secretary's computer--she's out sick, remember--so it's not turned on. I then sit there for about 4 minutes while it boots up, the whole time jumping up and down saying "comeoncomeoncomeon" as if that will somehow help. Finally it's scanned all her pictures of babies wearing angel wings and is ready, so i open my email as frantically as it is possible to open email, open my document and slam the print button. Error message. Printer not installed. WHAT??? I KNOW she freakin prints stuff from that computer. No time to question, just have to think of a plan D. Professor Sohrabi conviently walks in right at that moment and I explain my situation to her in a string of about 12 words smashed into one (its like 2:37 by this point) She lets me use her computer, and I print out my paper. I then run to my class with it and open the door as apologetically as I can--only to see everyone sitting around on different parts of the floor with all these little scraps of paper.... oookay, i think. Then I remember. Our quiz. Where she gives us passages from the Aeneid and we put them in order. I hadn't been too worried about it, I had Evolving Canon experience and they wanted a lot more than order, and I was thinking it would just be 4 or 5 passages that were obvious--Dido falls in love with Aeneas BEFORE she kills herself because he leaves her, seems easy enough. But why did they have so many scraps of paper? She gives me my envelope. My bursting envelope. Cause there were 25 little paper squares crammed in there. I take an empty place on the floor, dump them out, and start trying to place them. Luckily, I remembered what they all referred to, that was a plus for my sanity. However, I was not really in a position to remember whether Venus plots against Dido before she has a bard sing for them, whether Aeneas mentions Dido's sculpture before she welcomes them, you get the point. There were WAY too many passages and they were way too random and obscure. I found out later that while I was having my battle of wills with different printers, people were even like, weren't there just gonna be a few main points just to make sure we got the gist of the story? And she did her little giggle thing that means she's actually being insanely evil, and was like, yahhh, but I just couldn't help myself. (the yah isn't a mispelling, that's the best way i can recreate her accent) I could also complain about how evil she was in all the format requirements she made us observe for our papers (7 different sections, all separately paginated, our name and number of the section in a footer on each page, specific order of the heading, had to be on the right side of the page, one inch margins, word count listed, each section stapled separately but all held with one clip) but I'll refrain (ha!).
I basically thought I was in a nightmare. Or some kind of experiment to see how far they can push me before I crack (you'll never take me alive!!)