Because I'm slightly psychotic about my organizational skills, the types of protective plastic sleeves (hole-punched) I use for the key documents in my binder are of utmost importance. I have tried and tested all kinds of brands and varieties, and of course the only brand I like is the hardest to find. I have several packs of not-so-perfect plastic sleeves, which I at one point mistook for my favorites, lying around the house. I would only resort to them in a worst-case scenario.
And because I'm slightly superstitious, it would make perfect sense that, when I finished synthesizing my notes for tomorrow's final and went to put the last master outline into its plastic sleeve, I took it as a bad sign when I was just one sleeve short in the perfect plastic sleeve department. It doesn't mean anything, you silly supersticious girl! I tried to comfort myself, They're only perfect plastic sleeves.
But as I reached down for the crappy, lesser plastic sleeve - the one that would soon hold my final notes and would stand out in stark contrast to all the other, more perfect plastic sleeves in my binder - I breathed a sigh of relief. I saw the perfect plastic sleeve bag lying on the floor next to my supplies department, with just one perfect plastic sleeve still inside. Phew, I thought, It must have just fallen forward when I was getting out sleeves earlier. And oh! How lovely! Just one sheet left for my one remaining master sheet! This is God trying to tell me something! I will so ace my final tomorrow. I don't even need to study anymore!
As I pulled it up from the ground, however, reality came crashing down on me: the plastic bag and the lone plastic sleeve inside it had actually fallen partway under the heater. The entire middle section of my one remaining perfect plastic sleeve had withered up so much it was now unusable. Worse, I had already proclaimed my earlier discovery as obvious proof of how well I'll do on my exam tomorrow. The only logical conclusion I could make was that, in fact, someone was trying to really drive home the point that I'll really freakin' bomb.
One thing's for sure: I'm going to wear my lucky red pants tomorrow. I'm gonna need 'em.
How was it?