Okay, as we open this fairy tale, let me set the scene. Today: I've been awake for twenty hours at this point, and that's on about three hours of sleep. I traveled 3/4 of the length of the Eastern Seabord before noon, and went to class two hours after finishing unpacking. Then I wrote about eight pages of thinky school work. I had dinner, and did more school work.

So, I'm kind of the queen of burnt out, and I think to myself, "Self, you should take a shower."



Okay, so the first mishap was my fault: I was so tired that I got into the shower with my socks on. This was stupid. Deeply stupid. Also, distressing because wet socks = horrendous/catastrophic/disastrous/tragic/awful etc.

The water coming out of the shower head? Scalding. No, legitmately *scalding* and the only way to turn it off is to reach through the stream of boiling hot magma, I mean water, and I kind of like having skin attached to my arm. The door to the shower? Won't open. So I peel off my wet socks, lob them over the shower door, and try to make the cold water work. No joy for a few minutes, and the door still isn't opening. At this point, I'm wondering if I will, in fact, have to climb over the top of the shower door and if so, how the fuck that's going to happen.

Then the cold water decides to work. And by cold I mean hypothermia inducing. But that's okay, I reach through it, turn the water off. And am still stuck in the shower. Two shoulder checks later, I spill out onto the floor, and land on my wet socks.

There is no joy in Mudville.