The worst week of my life

"So I was sitting in my cubicle today, and I realized, ever since I started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that's on the worst day of my life."
-Office Space


This is pretty much how its been for me since I got back from Spring Break. Every week just gets worse and worse, with more and more things that I have to do. Just when I think I might be having a somewhat average, relaxed week, something happens to quickly shatter my hopes. This week, for instance, I was supposed to have two tests, one on Monday and one on Friday, and an informational meeting about my semester in Madrid, which I've actually been looking forward to. No big deal- totally manageable, right?

But then starting last Thursday my nice simple week started slipping away faster than Ruben Studdard's singing career. I first found out that, unbeknownst to me, class registration began Monday. I failed to realize this because not only are none of my friends registering since they will all be graduating this year, but I also had no need to figure out my schedule since I'll only be signing up for one class, "Semester in Madrid". However, despite the fact that I have only one class to sign up for, I still must meet with my academic advisor, who conveniently was switched to someone I've never met before, and my academic dean to approve my "schedule".

Then, to add to this glorious news, my psych professor tells us she's moving our exam to Friday, the period after my extremely difficult and lengthy history test. Now, I'm forced to not only study for these tests simultaneously, but also take them one after another and on a friggin Friday of all days. But, although it's inconvenient and certainly undesirable, I could still deal with that. Atleast I had all week to study for them both.

But what I just can't deal with is the fact that I've recently been sent an email about two workshops I'm "strongly advised" to sign up for, one on career searching and another on interview training. This is just great. Now I get to squeeze into my already jampacked schedule two hours to listen to someone further convince me that I will never get a job and that I will forever live with my parents. Who am I kidding? My parents hate me. I wish I could live at home. Atleast then I'd have running water and wouldn't hear gun fire outside my window, as I inevitably will in the squalor I'll call my home after I get the cashier job at Wal-mart.

On the bright side (yes I am capable of saying something slightly positive), next weekend is Easter. That means four days off, homecooked food, seeing my family, and wine, lots of wine. Plus, I'll be seeing my little china doll, my baby cousin Ryann. She should be walking now and I can't wait to see her running around, reeking havoc.

So maybe every week isn't getting worse. I still have something to look forward to. It's just gonna be a struggle getting there...if I ever do.