The exams are around the corner again.
I'm sitting at the IRO swatting flies as I wait for the Students Services Centre to open, to pay my school fees on the first day of exam break because I'm actually afraid they might not release my results if I don't.
NTU has flooded my school mailbox and sent me a mailer to my house even reminding me that I owe them the better part of 400 bucks, compounded even more by the late fee. NTU, thou art a moneysucking bitch.
It isn't much fun chatting to anyone these days because everyone is getting a little snappy and jittery. Even a harmless joke gets pounced upon and ripped apart like a glaring faux pas, reminiscent of farting in the lift you are taking up to the ballroom for prom, nice suit and all, surrounded by a bevy of ladies in pretty dresses and perfect makeup. Could it get any worse?
Actually, yes. It would certainly get worse if you were to instinctively mouth off "Not me!" I have a pretty good feeling you'll be alone on the dance floor after that.